Journey to Midwifery: a mama's tale

Eulogy for a Friend or A New Beginning

2009-04-22T21:53:00.000-07:00

Thank you for everything you've done for me. You've been with me for 35 years and there's something to be said for that. You've housed three children for me, and we share the sorrow of one more who just wasn't meant to be.

I had to let you go. The pain that I've been experiencing due to your illness has been excruciating and has lessened my quality of life. It wasn't an easy decision; certainly not one I made in haste. I hope you understand.

Anyone reading, take a moment of silence for my womb if you feel so inclined.

So, I had a hysterectomy. Such a long story. I'll go into detail soon. I just needed to get it out. Pun intended.

I'm recovering well. I'm happy with my decision and my surgery.

Old Man Winter

2008-12-23T22:24:00.001-08:00

Winter has been particularly fierce here in our neck of the woods. It's been intensely cold (for ths area) and we've had an unusual amount of snow for an unusual amount of time. It started snowing on Saturday 12/13 and snowed almost every day for a week. From then it's been too cold for any melting to happen and it's still been snowing intermittently. Right now there's a mixture of rain and snow, telling me that it's too cold to just rain but too warm to just snow.

I'd love some rain about now. I've fallen thrice since last Friday (12/19), all three times on my right side with my shoulder taking the brunt of my weight.

For some reason blogger has decided that I can't move my pictures around so these are not in chronological order.

There are some large icicles hanging from the eaves outside our front door. The effect that the dripping water has produced is illustrated in the following two pictures. They're little tiny stalagmites, aided in formation by the fir boughs on the front porch that I had intended to make wreaths with. It looks like a tiny 1" a

This is what the deck looked like in the middle of the snowfall. By the time things started warming up at all, another 4" had accumulated.

This is the reproducing icicle during the cold

James and the kids walking home from the mailbox.

Upon first seeing this picture, James commented that if you didn't know any better, you'd think this was taken up in the mountains. In all actuality, I took this photo in our sleepy little valley 5 miles outside the city limits.

Captain Snowbeard

The kids and I after our sledding adventure.

The Valley Association's sad attempt at closing our road...

No, those are not people's driveways...they are cars that have been abandoned after attempting to drive up the hill on the road that had been closed.

Our street.

Our roof and the trees behind our house.

Some videos of the sledding fun!

That's what our holiday break has looked like so far. What has yours looked like?

Mixture

2008-12-07T12:18:00.000-08:00

Today is a good day. I woke up in a good mood at 10:00 this morning and had breakfast with my family and we are having our typical Football Sunday.

I was looking at my Facebook page earlier today and received a painful reminder. Now I am attempting to feel the painful feelings in order to give them some recognition and then let them go. Forgive myself and the other person involved.

I miss someone whom has been hurt by me and I have been hurt by her in turn.

I've gone through, and still go through a range of emotions regarding my (lack of a) relationship with her and today I am sad.

Her name is Erin. She used to be married to my husband and was my good friend, confidant, and band mate for a long time. We had a falling out three years ago (I can't believe it's been that long) and we haven't spoken since. There have been many e-mails between us but nothing good.

I attempted to confront some things that were going on and my feelings surrounding them. Mainly that she was systematically cutting everyone out of her life because of a man that she has a relationship with; and then saying that she felt isolated by her friends because we didn't want to be around this guy. Apparently that was a big mistake.

There is also an issue of money that we owe her for watching our kids. Still. Part of me wants to send her whatever money we can so that I can let go of all of this but, at the same time, I still feel that she has a part in the fiasco that resulted in DSHS not paying for the services. And I want her to own up to that.

Without going into boring detail about this situation, I will just say that our friendship is over and that makes me sad. Although she has been quite selfish in our relationship, I miss her smile, her laugh, her silliness.

Most of my other friends remind me often that it really is for the best. That her selfishness has brought an end to several of her friendships. But it doesn't hurt any less. An organic, sort of moving away from tight friendship would have been preferred.

Maybe I'll send her a Christmas card with some money in it. See if that helps me to let go and get over it. Find the forgiveness I need so badly.

!Si, se puede!

2008-11-05T21:31:00.000-08:00

I am absolutely blown away that Barack Obama is our next president. I have been overcome with joy since the announcement last night. We watched the results roll in while enjoying margaritas, shots of Leyenda del Milagro, some delicious enchiladas and family. James' boss, Jeff, whose family we have been friends with since our preteens were toddlers, came with his beautiful family and shared the historic evening with us.

Here is a picture of us just after Obama was announced as President Elect. Tears of joy.

Additionally, my friend Marci sent out a letter from Alice Walker to Barack Obama. That letter follows.

Nov. 5, 2008
Dear Brother Obama,

You have no idea, really, of how profound this moment is for us. Us being the black people of the Southern United States. You think you know, because you are thoughtful, and you have studied our history. But seeing you deliver the torch so many others before you carried, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, only to be struck down before igniting the flame of justice and of law, is almost more than the heart can bear. And yet, this observation is not intended to burden you, for you are of a different time, and, indeed, because of all the relay runners before you, North America is a different place. It is really only to say: Well done. We knew, through all the generations, that you were with us, in us, the best of the spirit of Africa and of the Americas. Knowing this, that you would actually appear, someday, was part of our strength. Seeing you take your rightful place, based solely on your wisdom, stamina and character, is a balm for the weary warriors of hope, previously only sung about.

I would advise you to remember that you did not create the disaster that the world is experiencing, and you alone are not responsible for bringing the world back to balance. A primary responsibility that you do have, however, is to cultivate happiness in your own life. To make a schedule that permits sufficient time of rest and play with your gorgeous wife and lovely daughters. And so on. One gathers that your family is large. We are used to seeing men in the White House soon become juiceless and as white-haired as the building; we notice their wives and children looking strained and stressed. They soon have smiles so lacking in joy that they remind us of scissors. This is no way to lead. Nor does your family deserve this fate. One way of thinking about all this is: It is so bad now that there is no excuse not to relax. From your happy, relaxed state, you can model real success, which is all that so many people in the world really want. They may buy endless cars and houses and furs and gobble up all the attention and space they can manage, or barely manage, but this is because it is not yet clear to them that success is truly an inside job. That it is within the reach of almost everyone.

I would further advise you not to take on other people's enemies. Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain. Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in disguise. It is understood by all that you are commander in chief of the United States and are sworn to protect our beloved country; this we understand, completely. However, as my mother used to say, quoting a Bible with which I often fought, "hate the sin, but love the sinner." There must be no more crushing of whole communities, no more torture, no more dehumanizing as a means of ruling a people's spirit. This has already happened to people of color, poor people, women, children. We see where this leads, where it has led.

A good model of how to "work with the enemy" internally is presented by the Dalai Lama, in his endless caretaking of his soul as he confronts the Chinese government that invaded Tibet. Because, finally, it is the soul that must be preserved, if one is to remain a credible leader. All else might be lost; but when the soul dies, the connection to earth, to peoples, to animals, to rivers, to mountain ranges, purple and majestic, also dies. And your smile, with which we watch you do gracious battle with unjust characterizations, distortions and lies, is that expression of healthy self-worth, spirit and soul, that, kept happy and free and relaxed, can find an answering smile in all of us, lighting our way, and brightening the world.

We are the ones we have been waiting for.

In Peace and Joy,
Alice Walker

Portraits

2008-10-12T12:46:00.000-07:00

I've been doing some portraits for a couple of friends.

The jewels are the beautiful handiwork of one of my BFFs. She came over the other day with some props and a light box which we used to stage some shots of her necklaces and earrings. These are a few of those shots.

Yesterday I got together with my friends Ali and Jason and took some shots of their beautiful family. Ironically, the cemetery has some beautiful scenery.

It was lots of fun and I'm stoked I got to have this opportunity.

Mom, Mommy, Mother, Mama

2008-10-08T16:15:00.000-07:00

I love this picture. That's me playing my bass. I love the feel of it in my hands...

I never realized how cold 69 degrees could feel. I just can't get warm today.

I'm home sick with Jeremyah today. He had a sore throat and a fever this morning so I took the day off from work and have been browsing the Internet for various things.

I heard about a contest a while back, put on by a new (?) magazine called Mindful Mama. The contest involves writing an essay about what you think it means to be a mindful mama. The grand prize winner gets to go see Ani DiFranco in New York. That sounds awesome to me but will I be able to get up the gumption to write the essay?! I constantly have thoughts swirling around in my head and if I took the time to write them down I'd probably have a library of books. My strategy for this essay? Take the one-line thoughts about mothering and write them down. Elaborate later. See, my problem is that I get caught up in the details. Instead of just putting down the thought to edit later, I look at each sentence and want to find just the right combination of words. I need to get over that. It's not like I have to write it all down by hand.

So, I took a peek at what a friend of mine wrote for her essay and was blown away. But then, it is Iris, and she never ceases to amaze me. That's why there's a quote from her in my signature on my Gmail account. When I went to the website to view Iris' essay, I found an awesome website that just might be the forum I've been looking for. In fact, I've already connected with a mom on the east coast who also has a troubled teen. Like I told her in an e-mail, despite the awesome support system I have, no one can really relate to having a teenager in distress unless they have one also. And, since I don't have any friends who are experiencing this, it's hard to find someone to talk to who truly understands.

Yes, Zack is continuing to make poor choices. He just spent 30 days in juvenile detention and is now in a group home, which is similar to rehab in that he has limited contact with the outside world and has to attend groups and whatnot. However, he still hangs out with all of his street friends. Now, I have nothing against people on the street. I was there once and I help whenever possible. I do, however, have a problem with the fact that Zack's friends supply him with drugs and alcohol. Those are two things the boy just doesn't need.

Then there's this issue with his girlfriend. I'm not sure what to think. They were together for about three weeks before he went to jail and didn't see each other for six weeks. About two weeks in to his jail time he told the social worker that his girlfriend was pregnant. I know how to get in touch with the GF via MySpace and so I asked her for confirmation of the pregnancy. She said she was, indeed, pregnant and that it was Zack's. A week later she called me and told me that she miscarried twins. Then she went on to tell me that she had a D&C and the doctor told her she likely has gall stones and that was what caused the miscarriage.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but it's pretty likely that she wouldn't have missed a period until about two weeks after conception and probably not taken a test until she was at least a week late. So, assuming she got pregnant the very first time they had sex, she would have been about five weeks pregnant when she miscarried.

My feeling is that she may not have been pregnant in the first place but if she was, it likely wasn't Zack's kid. Apparently she told him that she was pregnant before she met him but was hit by a car and miscarried. Although this is plausible, I have serious doubts. She seems to have a propensity toward drama and she admitted to Zack that she has cheated with at least two guys. I really don't know what to think. I would feel terrible saying these things if she truly did have a miscarriage because no one should have to go through that, but I am overwhelmed by doubt and joy that Zack is not going to be a father. Yet.

Go check out www.mindfulmama.com
It's pretty cool.

Fall!

2008-09-30T21:13:00.000-07:00

I found an old movie on my computer that I made...just a series of photographs all about my dad. It was fun watching it again. Here are a few of the pictures I included:

This pic is me standing on the shore of Silver Lake with my dad and my brother behind me. I must have been four or five so that would be 1978 or 1979.

This is my dad and me on one of the passes on Highway 20 in 1979 or 1980.

Dad and me in 1975

Dad and Jeremyah in 2000

This is my sister and me, taken about five (or more) years ago.

We had a little get together at our house for the kickoff of the regular football season. Here are Cecily, Griffin, and Jaden eating hotdogs on the front porch

Molly took this beautiful shot of Griffin looking through the cross bars of a chair

There's most of the party crew. My brother is standing behind me and my (other) friend Kim wasn't there yet. I found out that she is pregnant and I'm so excited! They (Kim and Brett) are going to be such awesome parents.

Meanwhile, Jeremyah is playing tackle football and is having fun. His team got stomped in the first two games they played (30-something to zero), and after the second game he held my hand and said, mom, that was, like, 3,000 percent fun! I was so proud.

Here are James and his parents watching Jeremyah play in his first game.

You can kind of see him in the middle of the picture, white jersey, yellow facemask.

Jaden was having so much fun climbing on his Uncle James!

My fifth grader and my sixth grader on the first day of school

My employers decided to take all of the office staff and team leaders on a Leadership Retreat. We went to Sun Mountain Lodge just outside of Winthrop. It was absolutely amazing. We still did work stuff, but it was a lot of fun and we built bridges within the team. I definitely feel closer to them than I did before. It even helped to ease some tension between me and another person there. It was healing.

This is the view from the end of the dock at the lake on the Ranch. The cabin just off the left side of the end of the dock is the one I stayed in.

The view to the lake from the front porch of the cabin. Two of my co-workers (one of them my cousin!) are doing yoga at the end of the dock.

On the way there we had to take pictures representing each of the words from the acronym, CASTLE: Courage, Authenticity, Service, Truthfulness, Love, and Effectiveness. This is my team. We traveled over the mountains together and had fun along the way. This is just a fun picture of us with Crater Mountain in the background.

Me and the boss lady on horseback, making our way to the Cowboy Dinner at the ranch.

It was fukkin dusty!! I was pulling dirt boogers out of my nose for days! Weeks, even! I swear!

A view from the top of my mount. I for get her name. She was awesome, though. Oh, it was Christa.

Our cabin. I stayed in here with two of my teammates and a few other friends. My cousin was the only guy among 15 people. He handled it well. Especially considering the fact that he had to stay in the party cabin with me and four other ladies! He's not exactly a partier. But he likes to have fun and laughed at most of our antics.

So, things are good at work. I have two births coming up--one very soon and one in early to mid December. I'm excited about that. James and I are wonderful--coming on 11 years this February (holy shit!); the (younger) kids are great; and the older kid may just be on a path that could take him somewhere positive.

His story is not one I can tell right now.
Maybe next time...

Reflection

2008-09-01T20:40:00.001-07:00

Well, summer is drawing to a close. Darker days and colder nights are coming...

It seems like summer was too short. It doesn't feel like we got many hot days and it was definitely wetter than usual. I'll miss the sun until next year...

We did have a pretty great season, however. We did a lot and had some awesome visitors.

Our first visitors were Auntie Tami and Uncle Marlon. Tami, Meadow and I took a day to pamper ourselves and each other. We went to tea and had tiny sandwiches and some yummy tea called Evening in Missoula.

We visited a local beach when the tide was very low and saw some marine life. Marlon was excited to have crab in his hand as well as on his hoodie.

We went to breakfast with my dad.

Marlon is from Cuba and hasn't seen the same kind of wildlife as we see commonly in the Northwest. He got very excited to see the deer that come and eat all the plants in our yard. It actually gave me a new appreciation for thing around me that I often take for granted. Now, whenever I see un venado, I smile remembering Marlon's excitement. This picture is pretty blurry but I had to capture the moment. If you look closely, you can see un vendao through the window behind the guys.

We went to a local park.

And visited the Village Green.

And a Japanese Sculpture garden

Last Wednesday, I received a message from a friend that I went to midwifery school with. She told me of an adventure she and her husband are on and asked if I had time to have coffee and could they pitch a tent in our back yard. I immediately responded that I no longer live at the house with the awesome yard but if they didn't mind staying in a guest room, we'd love to have them over for dinner and to spend the night. And so they came over to our house on Thursday evening. They're riding their bicycles from Vancouver, BC to Santa Cruz, CA. They rode 50 miles the first day in the rain. I was so impressed and excited to have them come and stay with us. At this point they must be getting close to Oregon. They were thinking that 60 miles per day was what they'd average, which would put them between Olympia and Portland tonight. Here are Dana and Greg as they were leaving our house Friday morning.

Poker has been my weekly ritual this summer. I play with three to six other ladies at a friend's place. We have lots of fun and talk lots of shit.

My good friend, Addie is getting ready to have a baby. She is 26 weeks pregnant tomorrow and has had a little bit of a rough go of it, complete with nausea that just isn't letting up! She's positively glowing, however, and I was thrilled to take some photos of her a few weeks ago.

Jeremyah is playing football again this year. But this time it's tackle football and he's so excited. Such a little man. He had his jamboree this last Saturday. Here is a shot of the football boy with a couple of friends from last year's team.

These next couple of shots are from two years ago. I think they were taken exactly two years ago today. I was on a road trip with my friend Bree. We drove from Boise to Boston in two weeks. We stayed at my cousin's place in Colorado before heading to Chicago; Niagara Falls; Seneca Falls, NY; New York City; Cape Cod, MA; and finally to Boston where I stayed the night, went to Cheers and headed home.

Here is Bree in Washington Square Park.

Here is an awesome trumpet player in Battery Park

So, summer is coming to a close. The kids are both starting new schools this year. Meadow is going to middle school and we moved out of range for Jeremyah to continue at his old school. I'm excited for them to go back to school. They need something to occupy their brains instead of TV and bitching at one another.

Ruby and Sprocket got the most out of summer they could. Here they are, resting after a day of frolicking.

Couldn't resist throwing this one in. Meadow and Sprocket!

Hope your summer was delightful and here's to next year!

Jam

2008-07-27T21:03:00.000-07:00

Jam:

Noun
Singular jam
Pluralcountable and uncountable; jams
jam (countable and uncountable; plural jams) A sweet mixture of fruit boiled with sugar and allowed to set, often spread on bread or toast or used in jam tarts. Blockage, congestion; as a traffic jam, paper jam. (popular music) An informal, impromptu performance or rehearsal. (basketball) A forceful dunk. A difficult situation.

For several years James and I have been talking about putting up some jam. And I mean years! Well, Friday was James' birthday and we spent an awesome weekend hanging out with friends and family. (Sorry, Emily and Dave, to have missed your party...we'll catch you on the next time 'round). Today James and I took Meadow and Jeremyah out to a local u-pick berry farm and loaded up!

Thirteen pounds of blueberries!
Nine pounds of strawberries (that's how much each of the kids weighed when they were born!)!

And 17 pounds of raspberries!

Then we went to the grocery store and picked up some essentials and some pectin and went home to embark on our first-ever jam making session.

First batch done!

No, we didn't add any mustard or anything but we did take a break to eat hamburgers.

James and the kids picking the stems and leaves out of the blueberries.

Meadow gets a turn stirring the berries as they cooked.

Jeremyah stirring the berries.

JAM!!!

There I am ladling the hot jam into the jars.

The small batch in the back is strawberry jam, the small bach on the left is blueberry jam and the large batch on the right is raspberry jam.

James relaxes after a satisfying birthday weekend.

James' birthday pavlova.

Meadow, James, Jeremyah and James' mom, Kathy

My dad went on a roadtrip with some of his biker buddies a week and a half ago or so and got in a little scuffle with a deer. He was going about 60 miles per hour on his Harley when he hit it and went down. He flew off the bike and rolled and skidded down the road a ways and into a ditch. By some miracle he walked away with zero broken bones or internal injuries. However, he's going to have to grow a lot of skin back.

James and I stopped by to see daddy on our way out to James' folks' place and I took a few pictures of my papa.

Big tough guy, my dad. He's so burly at 63 that he can walk away from an accident like that and come home joking about it. No, he didn't keep the deer.

Note the lovely red circles on his knees. Protect those patellae!

I'm so thankful that he's OK. He said he wants to go on another ride when he gets his bike back from the shop. During that ride he's going to decide whether or not to give up riding. We all think he should keep doing it as long as he's not freaked out by it. It's his absolute favorite thing to do and it's not like he was drunk when he crashed or a feeble-minded old man. He's in great shape and has great reflexes. The doctor told him, after doing some x-rays, that he has the body of a 55 year-old and if his back muscles weren't so strong he likely would have broken his spine in two places where there was some twisting.

As long as you love it, Papito, keep riding. I love you.

Busy Summer

2008-07-21T20:07:00.001-07:00

Well, it's been a very busy spring and summer! Here are some highlights...

Jeremyah and James having lunch at the Village Green

Jeremyah and Meadow with our friend Alloquois in Portland

James playing guitar
Hank chillin in the hot pink
Ella twirling in her fancy skirt

Meadow and Ella being fancy girls

Hank!

Jeremyah Hendrix

She's fashionably lean...and she's fashionably late...

My family walking down a Portland street

The teeter totter at Kenton Park

Ice cream at Cool Moon in Portland

The boys riding the Max

An owl at the Portland zoo

Calliope gets a ride from her papa at the Portland zoo

Kisses from my Meadow

Portland's Chinatown, home of Hung Far Low

The BEST Thai food I've ever had...Typhoon in Portland

After dinner...and drinks!

Heading home, nice and toasted!

Gene loves Emily

Ruby!

Calliope!

Best friends! Fourth of July in St. Helens, OR.

Pooped Ruby.

Me and my Boo.

Tha girls.

Explosion!

Natasha (my niece), Meadow, Jaden (my nephew), Jeremyah, Kenyon (my nephew), Tyson (my nephew), and Latrissa (my niece) at the water slides.

My brother, Brett on a sucide mission...

My brother, Clay on a suicide mission

Pooped kids!

James at the PSE company picnic at Lake Tapps east of Tacoma

Jeremyah mid-air hopping to the velcro

Father and son battle!
Grumpy ice cream girl

Martinis and a cigar after a long day

Discovery Park

Fisherman's Terminal

Anyone know what kind of flower this is?

I've been much too busy to write any kind of substantial blog. I promise more will come...

Home

2008-04-13T13:23:00.001-07:00

Have I mentioned how much I love my house?

I love it.

We met with the owner last week to talk about a lease option to buy. Then James and I had a budget meeting over a couple of drinks to see if we could afford it.

The answer is yes and next week we will meet with the current owner to sign the papers.

I can't believe we're going to own this house...

Here's a little virtual tour:

This is the entryway, which is one of my favorite things about this house. Coat closet and bathroom included.

Kind of a mess right now, but there's the bar and dining area.

The kitchen. Another if my favorite places.

The living room is cozy.

This is where I update my blog, e-mail and play Scrabble online! www.isc.ro

Littleun and nephew trying to run away from the camera while playing legos. Note the vintage Star Wars sheets. They were James' when he was a kid some 80,000,000 years ago.

This is where we BBQ. Yes, even in the rain. We're Northwesterners for fuck's sake!

Here I am, happy that this house gets to be mine.

Election

2008-04-04T08:39:00.000-07:00

Thank goodness we get to be rid of GWB in less than a year. Eight years is too long.

I'd been on the fence for a long time regarding which Democratic campaigner I wanted to secure the party's nomination. Hillary has experience, and she was the first lady during my favorite president's years in office (favorite since I've been alive...and, no, I don't care that he received head in the Oval Office--that's a private affair between Bill, Hillary, and Monica...no pun intended). The idea of a woman in office...finally(!)...stirred the feminst in me and I felt fairly certain that Hillary was the one.

Then, one day a couple of weeks ago, I was bored at work and not feeling very productive so I ventured over to Morag's Leafy Corner to read any updates she had to offer. It was there that I was directed to this speech Obama made on the subject of race, which is a difficult topic for me. Recall this post last year regarding racism.

I realized that what I've been missing in the 90 second sound bites through which I have come to know Clinton and Obama is the passion, the feeling behind the words being uttered by each. In listening to Barack speak, I felt the nurturing, passion, and genuine love for the people of his country that I just don't feel when listening to Hillary. Traditionally I have found that it is generally the woman who is the nurturer and will fill a home with love and compassion but somehow I don't feel that Hillary will kiss the skinned knees of our country with the same touch that Barack will. I think that's what attracts people to the womanness in Hillary--the fact that a woman is biologically more nurturing and compassiontate than a man. But when I listen to her speak I hear coldness and stoicism that I don't believe will lead our country out of darkness.

And the mud slinging has to stop. I've only really heard about it from Hillary's side but I'm not so naive as to think it's not coming from Obama's camp.

But, really, how is it demeaning for Barack to pull out a chair for Hillary? In the era that they both grew up it was the polite thing for a man to do. Yes, feminists everywhere, we don't have to assert ourselves as man-hating to claim that we are feminists. I simply believe that we all need to stand up for the rights of people everywhere. Equal rights should not be narrowed to specific groups...in my mind that's a form of segregation. Let's open our minds.

I want a woman in the White House, too. But I don't think Hillary is the right one.

And if you can tell me honestly why it was demeaning for Barack to pull out her chair for her, please enlighten me.

Thanks to my friend Ali for the great conversation following my listening to the speech that convinced me definitively that Barack Obama should be the next President of the United States. She helped me to understand that it's the compassion and nurturing that makes the difference between the two.

Spring?

2008-03-29T11:52:00.000-07:00

I wish it was spring...

However, this is what my house looks like this morning. It isn't a ton of snow but it's treacherous.

This is what the driveway looks like. When I drove into the garage (next pic) I almost crashed into the house.

I'm really actually pretty upset about it.

We didn't get to have Thanksgiving dinner with my mom and siblings like we planned because my mom was in the hospital so we planned to do it at our house tomorrow (March 30). That apparently has to be canceled. I don't feel comfortable having everyone drive out here when conditions are so bad.

Damn.

Smiling

2008-03-27T10:17:00.000-07:00

I am watching Discovery Health right now, a story about a model who is pregnant with her first child. I was ecstatic to see them include (DHC) the part about the couple choosing to have a doula, and even more so when I heard that the mom-to-be was given the best possible gift from her own mother...

Her mother told her that giving birth was the best experience she'd ever had.

Teenagers...

2008-03-12T19:59:00.000-07:00

I've been sick the last few days. Ugh. I'm tired, cranky, and I don't feel good. I couldn't sleep last night until I downed a nice amount of NyQuil.

Gross.

Today I stayed home from work and slept mostly, but this evening I've been treated to some arguing and angst from my wonderful teenager.

Shit.

I've tried very hard since he returned home from rehab three weeks ago to maintain a balance in giving him the freedoms he deserves while keeping a hawk's eye on his activities. I've been pretty clear with my feelings about him hanging out with the friends that he used to get into trouble with and tried to encourage him to form new friendships with people who don't drink or use drugs. He has tried and tried to push those boundaries, much to my dismay. I have come to a point where I dread the words..."I know you're probably not going to like this, but how would you feel if I..."

And I hear these words every. single. day.

He has one friend in particular that he has practically been obsessing about--the one that he got into the most trouble with (they once got picked up in a hobo camp under a bridge in Everett after running away). He has asked me day in and day out if I would be OK with him contacting this kid and I have repeatedly told him no.

Fast forward to last Friday. I had an awesome conversation with one of my bosses about the power of letting go and that no matter how much babying I do now, the kid is seventeen years old and has to be allowed to make his own mistakes and enjoy his own successes.

*Nothing I do now will give us back those years that I was not his mother*

Not even holding him hostage in our house. I think somehow I thought that, if he had the things here that he enjoys, he wouldn't seek out those old friends.

OK, so Saturday our in-home couseling session went well and I spoke up about the letting go. Well, I swear he took that and ran with it. Despite my best efforts, he decided that he was just going to go ahead and call his friend--yes, the one he used to get into trouble with.

Yesterday I spoke with him about it. He insisted that it was what he really wanted to do and that he was just trying to be honest with me about it. I explained to him that, doing something that he knows I strongly disapprove of and then being honest about it later doesn't change the fact that he blatantly went against something that I explicitly said no to.

Today he went and hung out with that friend.

Did he get high? I doubt it.

Is this opening a can of worms I don't feel ready to deal with? Definitely.

Anyway, he came home late (we knew he would be late because he had to take the bus) and was acting weird. When I went to talk to him about it he layed there on his bed with a smug grin on his face like he doesn't give a shit how I feel. He says he cares. But his actions tell me he doesn't.

So here I am...in this place I never expected to be (with this particular kid). I'm confused, hurt, and afraid of what's to come. I almost feel like, if he relapses, then it's my failure. It will be because I failed him. It will be because I didn't keep him close enough and watch over him.

But on the other hand, I know I have to let go. I can't take responsibility for his successes or failures. I can only stand close by and support him.

Fuck.

Good Friends, Good Food; New Friends, New Food

2008-03-08T17:57:00.000-08:00

Today I put into action an idea that's been brewing for some time. My friend Iris and I created a blog to connect people and food. I'm not going to go into detail about it here because I want to save all my food mojo for a new posting on the new blog.

But please go check it out.

www.communitycooking.blogspot.com

We are asking everyone to send in submissions and like us if you're so inclined. We'd like to connect as many people as possible so that we can all learn new ways of appreciating food.

Peace out!

Eight Days In

2008-03-04T18:17:00.000-08:00

My son, Zackary James, has been home from treatment for eight days. The first few days were difficult at best.

He had some very distinct ideas about what he was expecting and was very upset when things were cast in a different light. He spent a couple of days with my dad last week doing work on the ranch. His friend came and spent the night Friday night, went to visit another friend on Sunday and then we made a schedule of expectations and a timeline for them. I bought him a GED book and let him know that I did, indeed expect him to study it.

That pissed him off.

However, after the initial few days worth of fighting multiple times a day, we've come to a place where we understand each other and what we expect. My son has grown leaps and bounds and continues to amaze me with his level of maturity (it's 10-fold what it was when I dropped him off at the center on November 27).

I am so proud that he came from my body.

Tag

2008-03-01T21:22:00.000-08:00

I've been tagged again (Thanks, Morag!) and this time the subject is in the form of a Memo to My 15-Year-Old Self.

Let's begin.

First, let's talk about the addictions brewing.

Junk food is not good for you. It's rotting your teeth and making you gain weight. You get one set of permanent teeth and if you keep eating so much sugar, especially with your teeth-brushing habits, you're going to lose some teeth. And it's so much easier to start out maintaining your figure instead of trying to go back and lose a whole bunch of weight. It's a strong addiction, but if you just stop for a few days it'll be easier to manage...I promise.

Why did you start smoking? Remember when you begged your dad to stop smoking just a few years ago. He did it. Why did you start? You're going to have your ups and downs with it but just remember that you always have a choice.

You don't know it yet, but you're going to be a mom in about a year. Be good to that boy-child. His dad's not going to be around--get used to it now. Even when he's older, his dad's going to be MIA. And when that baby is taken away from you and subsequently adopted by your aunt and uncle, try to do a good job of visiting him. Just because he's not legally your son anymore doesn't mean he doesn't know you. It's in his DNA and he's going to need you.

Stop sneaking out of the damn house to hang out with a bunch of stupid guys that don't really give a shit about you! In 15 years, when you see them on the street, they're not even going to remember you! And stop being such a bitch to your mom. She's tired, she works all the time and she deserves to go out when she feels like it. She's had a difficult life. Let her have some peace!

Lastly, you effing rock. You have cool hair, cool t-shirts (that your mom bought for you!) and a whole mess of awesome heavy metal cassettes. You are the epitome of the late eighties. And you're gorgeous--too bad for the stupid boys who don't notice.

Be good to yourself, girl. It all goes so fast.

I tag Addie, Iris, and Saralee.

Right Around the Corner

2008-02-22T13:30:00.000-08:00

Today feels like Spring!

I went for a walk on my lunch break today and marveled at all the people cruising around bipedally, wiping from their eyes the long winter's sleep.

All Things Birthy

2008-02-20T20:39:00.000-08:00

Friday, February 8th was my best friend's birthday. It was a significant day for three reasons...the first being the most obvious...it was a day to celebrate the birth of one of the best people I've ever known. Happy birthday, Emily Marie--I love you! The second reason was that Emily gave me a wonderful gift--a book called Babies In Her Saddlebags, which I read in just a couple of days, and recommend to anyone who loves a good midwife story (this one happens to be true).

Keep reading to hear the third reason.

We went out that Friday night, beginning with dinner at our favorite Mexican restaurant. It was just Emily, Patricia and me. Brilliant. Then we began the pub crawl that Emily decided was what she wanted to do in celebration. I had a beer with dinner, a beer at the first bar, and a shot of tequila at the second bar, which also happened to be the bar I used to work at. (I had those three drinks over a four hour period...I swear I'm not that irresponsible!!) Then I stopped drinking because I had a feeling...

...that my client, who was already eight days postdates, was going to have a baby. I left the growing crowd of celebrators at the third bar, a good two hours after my shot of tequila, I headed straight home to go to bed in anticipation. I was home for no more than 20 minutes when I received a call from my client that she had been having contractions for a couple of hours.

I arrived at her house around 12:45 a.m. to find my client working hard and the student midwife already there. A cervical check revealed about 50% effacement, 2cm dilation and a bulging bag. Her contractions were coming about 3-5 minutes apart and they were hitting her pretty hard.

A couple of hours later she was 90% effaced and 4cm dilated. At this point she had settled into a coping rhythm and she was singing a low song through her contractions with a little tremolo. It was a very beautiful song that will remain with me for the rest of my life.

By 6:45 am, she was 90% effaced, 8cm dilated and heading straight into transition. This was signified by a marked change in her song. It went from low and rhythmic to higher and more sing-song. Still beautiful, but I knew what the change in her song meant. She would be holding her baby very soon! When her cervix was completely dilated, she got a well-deserved break for a few minutes before the pushing contractions started.

There is truly nothing in the world like the sounds a woman makes when she is giving birth. It's virtually impossible to accurately recreate the primal music that accompanies childbirth.

At 7:49 am on Saturday, February 9, 2008, the world was blessed with a brand new little girl. She weighed 8 pounds, 8 ounces, was 19 and a quarter inches long and was very pink.

Welcome to our world, Magdalena. Thanks to you, your momma, your big brother, and your bubbe for giving me the honor of being present when you took your first breath.

Childhood Re-revisited

2008-01-27T16:42:00.000-08:00

Our good friend John came over last Sunday with a gift for the kids. I was astonished when he showed me a four-wheeler (we used to call them quads) in the back of his car. Today we gave it it's test run for the first time. Here's a little video of the boy riding down the road.

Obviously this is an off-road vehicle, but we couldn't resist just trying it out on the road. The neighbors seemed stoked that we were having fun.

So, now I'm feeling like those redneck roots of mine are coming to bite me in the ass. We live for football season and we own a quad. Shit, I feel like a kid all over again.

This and That

2008-01-18T19:40:00.001-08:00

We plugged in our old computer a couple of days ago. There was so much information in there that we haven't seen in a loooooooooonnngg time...we had fun going through and looking at some old pictures. Here are some to see. Remember that you can click on a photo to see it enlarged.

Seven Sisters (The Hoh Rainforest)

Sun In The Maple

Sunset on Second Beach (La Push, WA)

Forest Trillium

Wagon Stop

Fun Guy (Hoh Rainforest)

Oldest and Youngest: A Vet and His Grandson (My dad and youngest child, 2000)

Old Chevy

Another Sunset on Second Beach (La Push, WA)

There's also a whole mess of information that I was so excited to see again, including a book I'd been working on for a few years and my entire research project from 2002-2003 and the 19 page paper I wrote on childbirth for an independent learning contract. It's cool to look back five years and see how passionate I was about birth--and know that I still feel that passion. I have a doula client due at the end of this month. I'm so excited.

Remember a posting about Laurie Michaels, a woman here who had an aneurysm about half way through her third trimester of pregnancy... Her baby was born on December 12 (I think she was due toward the end of January)and she saw and held her baby for the first time on January 8. Here, again, is the link to her husband's blog. I cried when I read about her meeting little Ella for the first time. Here is a link to the picture of the reunion.

So, still busy, still loving my job, still loving my family more and more each day. May you always know that you're loved by someone. It's the most beautiful feeling in the world.

Raven Weirdness

2008-01-08T21:15:00.000-08:00

Anyone traveling along the south end of Lake Washington on Highway 522 this past Saturday got a weird treat. About 10,000 crows/ravens were swarming and hanging out. It seriously looked like a scene from the Hitchcock classic "The Birds." For about a block and a half all we could see were black birds. We were sitting at a red light when I realized we had our camera and I took this small bit of footage. Hopefully you can see it--it really doesn't show the true scale of what we saw. Everywhere we looked, all the rooftops and any open ground was covered in crows and the sky was alive with black birds. I'm not sure they were all crows or ravens or a mix of both, but it was maniacal!

Another Year Gone

2007-12-30T22:41:00.000-08:00

Another one afoot.

I am very pleased to report that mom got to go home on Christmas Eve. On Christmas day, hubby and children and I joined my sister, one of our brothers, and their respective families at mom's house to fill it with love and laughter. Mom was very tired but thoroughly enjoyed being home with us all. A more blessed Christmas I've never had--I felt the glory of the holiday spirit alive in the gathering of close loved ones.

I am loving my new job. Of course, there are some things that are annoying, but my supervisors are supportive and generally happy, my office finally has some light (!) and I am continuously given challenges and opportunities to exercise my knowledge and skills. I've only been there for about six weeks but I feel that I am in the right place.

My son is doing well. He earned 90 out of 100 points last week in his program and achieved the next "phase." He is now allowed four hour passes and every time he gets to another level means that he will be home sooner!

Midwifery continues to be on my brain. As I read posts from my one-time classmates (Niki, Louisa, and Tiffany), I realize what I gave up almost a year ago. I will one day go back to school and become a midwife but it seems further and further away. At this point I have decided to wait until my youngest child is a freshman in high school. If the time seems right I will pursue my education sooner, but if I stay on my current path, I will return to school in 2013. I will be 39 years old and my eldest son will be 22. At that point I will have to begin the program all over again. I'm OK with it. Five years will vanish in no time.

Mommy, Football, Holidaze

2007-12-23T14:39:00.000-08:00

OK, I admit it, I'm a HUGE football fan. Specifically, I'm a Seahawks fan. For our holiday gift this year, hubby and I went to see a Seahawks game two weeks ago. We watched them cream Arizona from 16 rows off the sideline, right behind the Seahawks defensive bench. I was soooo thrilled. Here is a pic of hubby and me in the stands. Excited? Yeah, I think we were!

Here is a shot of some of my favorite players. Specifically, here is a shot if my absolute 'Hawk,' Nate Burleson, number 81, my baby, the one hubby needs to be afraid of! Hahahahaa, just kidding.

We got into a wreck on the freeway on our way to the game. It was minor and no one was hurt, but our Subie has a nice-sized ding in the rear. Damn ice. Always collects on the bridges first...

My mom is still in the hospital and likely won't be out by Christmas Day. She had to have a second surgery, this time to remove a small portion of her small intestine because some scar tissue was adhering to itself. We were all pretty worried there for a couple of days but she is bouncing back and healing well. I have a small hope that we'll be able to give her the awesome gift of taking her home on Christmas.

I've been thinking a lot about moms who don't get to spend this holiday season with their children. My sister's son is on his way to battle in Iraq, along with so many other moms' kids. Another mom I know is in the hospital because she had a brain aneurysm. She was approximately 33 weeks pregnant when she underwent brain surgery and gave birth to her daughter via cesearean section a few days later. She has not been able to spend time with her new baby and has not seen her 8 year old son since being flown to the hospital in the beginning of all of this. If you'd like to visit her husband's hospital blog, please go here. Both mom and daughter are doing well and I wish them well.

So many other moms lost their babies this year to many different circumstances and my heart is with them.

I'm hoping that all of you who celebrate this time of year are being safe. Many blessings of light and laughter to everyone in the New Year and always.

Iris

2007-12-12T22:29:00.001-08:00

If you haven't taken the opportunity as of yet to visit my friend Iris, please do. She is an inspiration. Seeing her, talking to her, reading her blog always reminds me that there is beauty in the world. I've had the distinct pleasure of knowing her in a few different ways--when I first met her, she was the new girlfriend of a long-time good friend of mine; then she became a friend; then she became my partner in the low end, playing killer drum grooves to my weird bass lines.

But, I think we really connected throughout her pregnancy. I was so excited when she told me she was going to have a baby--then she asked me to be there and I about hit the floor!

Thank you, Iris, for being my friend and bestowing upon me the honor of knowing you the way I do.

I love you.

New House, New Job, etcetera, etcetera...

2007-11-29T11:15:00.000-08:00

A complete, up-to-the-minute update would take me a couple of days to write and would take you way too long to read. As a compromise, I will give a brief update of a lot of the goings on here in Casa de los Guzstiltsmans.

Here are a few before and after photos of our new house. We officially moved in last weekend and have been wading through the aftermath ever since.

Here is the dining room before we moved in:

And here it is now:

The living room with a couple of our belongings in it:

The living room now:

And this is where I've been hanging out every night:

Yes, it looks like a moving truck vomited everywhere in the house, but at least we're here and the walkways are opening up.

Zack is finally in treatment. It's been five or more weeks since this process began and he's been up and down with the idea. He doesn't think he needs treatment but I keep trying to explain to him that it's not just drug rehab--it's also behavior modification. It's learning new ways to deal with stress and learning how to prioritize his responsibilities and desires. He doesn't see that skipping school to get stoned with his friends is a problem--he doesn't think education is a big deal. I told him to try telling that to some kids on other countries who would give anything to be able to go to school, but can't.

He doesn't listen.

I have to stop expecting him to.

But it's official...he lives with us. He has his own room and everything! My first born child is back in my arms...sort of.

My mom is having surgery today. Her body seems to be organizing a mutiny and each little faction is waiting for their uprising.

Last week she had surgery to repair her arm. Recall this post in which I described her car accident. I took her to the surgery center to have the pins put in her arm on Monday and spent the night with her. I came home Tuesday for a job interview and to get my family so we could go back down to Seattle to give mom and her partner (Chuck) a Thanksgiving feast. I received a call from Chuck early Wednesday morning saying that mom had been readmitted to the hospital late Tuesday night because of pain ostensibly stemming from inflammation of small pouches on her colon known as diverticula. She had been through it before and recognized the signs.

Upon arrival at the emergency room, with mom writhing and screaming in pain, they were treated poorly by a nurse who decided that mom was "faking it." This nurse even had the audacity to comment that mom started "really playing it up" when Chuck re-entered the room after ducking out to have a smoke. Mom was denied pain meds and treated like a prescription pill addict.

Finally, a doctor ordered a CT scan and confirmed that mom was having an episode of diverticulitis. Nurse Ratchet then understood that mom is not a raving lunatic and gave her a healthy dose of dilaudid and admitted for inpatient services. The doctor was very close to operating right away and removing her entire colon. However, he decided to be prudent about surgery, and opted instead to boost her up on anti-biotics to eliminate the infection and reduce inflammation. The next course of action would be a colonoscopy to make sure that the rest of her colon is healthy and then remove her sigmoid colon. The sigmoid colon is the lowest part of the large intestine, extending from the distal end of the descending colon to the rectum. It gets its name from the "S" shape it makes as it winds toward the exit. Mom had her colonoscopy yesterday and everything looked great. I just received a call a moment ago from Chuck that mom is heading into surgery right now. It's 12:30 in the afternoon. Please be thinking of her.

Last but not least, I received a phone call on Monday this week from the company I interviewed with last Tuesday and they offered me the job! I am now an administrative assistant for a company that assists developmentally disabled adults find jobs and housing and teaches them skills for managing their lives. It pays well and had medical benefits as well as paid sick and vacation time. I start Monday. I am so excited!

So there you have it. A (not-so) brief update. Hope you've enjoyed it.

I love you, mommy.

Fall Photoblog

2007-11-09T11:11:00.001-08:00

I thought I'd share some photos from our fall so far. Enjoy!

Jeremyah had so much fun playing football this year. It was his first season. They only won one game but I don't think I saw any of the kids getting upset over not winning. They just had a great time, which I think is wonderful!

Here are Meadow, Jaden, and James (Hubby) walking to the field for one of Jeremyah's games.

Jeremyah is the one in the camo shorts running toward the kid with the ball. Click on the pic to enlarge it.

My smiley boy

Almost the whole team on the big day that they won! Jeremyah is the kid kneeling with his arms in the air.

This kid is a fast runner!

This is the Japanese Maple outside our door that I'm going to miss so much when we move. It is so beautiful in the summer and fall when it becomes vibrantly green and then changes to blood red.

This is Ruby sitting on the front walk. I love the contrast in color between the fallen maple leaves and Ruby.

Here is Jaden, Meadow, Denali, and Jeremyah getting pumpkins after Jeremyah's last football game.

I hope everyone's fall is going well. This upcoming holiday season is a difficult one for some. I am wishing you all warmth and love during the holidaze. Please be smart--don't drink and drive, remember to hug the ones you love and shower love on those who are less fortunate.

"...I wish you shelter from the storm, a cozy fire to keep you warm; most of all, when snowflakes fall, I wish you love." -Frank Sinatra

9-10 Centimeters and Progressing

2007-11-07T09:16:00.000-08:00

Sometimes transition takes so long but sometimes you get a break right before or in the middle of it.

I think I'm in the middle of the break.

I think if I posted more often then I wouldn't be writing these long, involved posts.

The treatment center I took my son to did not keep him. During the orientation they decided that he has increased levels of certain traits that aren't conducive to their program and that he needs a more intensive program.

The night before we left the treatment center my mom got into a car accident. She is okay but she is pretty badly hurt with a broken right arm (quite impressive, really--compound fractures of both the radius and the ulna); bruised sternum, clavicle and ribs (from the seatbelt); and contusions to the entire left side of her head. I don't know that I've ever seen a shiner like hers, and the whole side of her head is swollen. Her major concern is how ugly she thinks she looks but I told her that the vision of her standing there (standing!) talking to me following a wreck like that is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I really mean that mom--I don't know what I'd do if you were hurt worse, or even worse. Her car is totalled; her body is healing. Mom's boyfriend received a bruised spleen (not ruptured) and some muscle straining from dragging my screaming mommy out of the wreckage through the passenger side door because the driver's side door was crunched in and unable to open. His body is also healing and I'm so thankful that he was there with her. He really shouldn't have pulled her out of the car because she could have had serious back or neck injuries, but thankfully she didn't. She also commented that she felt like she would have had a heart attack if he hadn't pulled her out because she was in a complete panic and feeling the most claustrophobic she's ever felt (which is saying a lot).

So Zack and I went to mom's for a few days after leaving the center to take care of mom and her boyfriend. However, after five days being gone from my hubby and younger children, I was itching to get home. So we headed out and got home on halloween in time to go trick-or-treating.

We went to a neighborhood that we go to regularly for Hallows Eve festivities. The people who live there get very into the spirit of things and decorate heavily as well as role-play!

Here is our dressed-up group for this year:
(R-L) Melanie, not sure; Jaden, Batman; Meadow, superstar; Caleb, Ninja; Michael, punk rock skeletor (my own title); Denali, poor wizard student; Zack, not sure; Jeremyah, scary; Josiah, Grim Reaper.

My three monsters: Meadow, Zack, Jeremyah.

It's a JJ Batman!

In the days following, I had a pretty major emotional breakdown. I haven't had a period since the end of July and I can just feel the hormones building up in my body, almost, it seems, to toxicity. Add this to the intense stress I've been feeling regarding my significant change in circumstances and there is a recipe for disaster. Luckily, I have a very supportive group of friends and they held my hand through it. I'm now coming out the other side relatively intact.

Since Hubby and I have decided to take Zack on, my employment endeavors have shifted. I need to find a full-time regular job so I will not be able to do the birth assisting gig. I am hoping to still be able to do doula work occasionally but it will be very limited.

The main reason I have to find full-time employment is that we have to move. We had to find a house with enough space to fit all of us comfortably (i.e. Zack not sleeping on the couch, etc.). We found a beautiful house at the very top of our price range and have signed a lease. Things will be tight for a while until I begin working but I am so excited about our new house. Here are some photos.

The entryway:

The living room

The dining room

The kitchen

I look around and am in disbelief that we will be living in this house. It's simply amazing. There are four bedrooms with two and a half bathrooms plus a two-car garage. The "master" bathroom has a giant jetted tub, which is the cat's meow for me. I love taking baths but am too big to fit in a standard sized tub.

It almost feels sinful to live in a house like this. Sometimes I think we should just all cram into a shack and use the extra money to feed hungry kids. The truth is, we'll be able to feed hungry kids as well as pay our bills. And also to settle some old debts.

So there you have it.

Tomorrow

2007-10-26T17:21:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow afternoon, following my youngest son's flag football game and end-of-season pizza party, I will embark on a 4 hour journey with my eldest son to take him to inpatient drug and alcohol treatment. This is a journey I took with my father almost exactly 16 years ago. A journey that I thought would end with my son in my arms. Maybe I've already told that story.

I am ecstatic to report that my son is not a father (wow, that sounded like Maury Povich), and I am not a grandmother (whew!) so I don't think as much hangs in the balance with this situation. However, my husband has made it painfully clear that he cannot live with us if he continues to blow every responsibility off in order to get stoned. I understand his reasoning and I agree with him.

Wish me luck for tomorrow and the following two-day orientation. I'll be home Monday night.

Breast Rash

2007-10-20T00:17:00.000-07:00

If you want to read a most rediculous urban legend that has been circulating via e-mail since 2003, go here. The picture is so blatanly photoshopped and I love the use of the terms, "more certified doctor," and "milk canals."

Transition

2007-10-19T09:30:00.000-07:00

My oh my how quickly things change around here. We are now going through a brand new transition. Some day I'll get to push the proverbial baby out.

My son is coming to live with us. He has set fire to most of his bridges and, although few are completely burned down, he is left with few options for where to go until he turns 18. Advice solicited!

About a month ago, my aunt and uncle decided they couldn't handle him anymore and began the process to relinquish their guardianship to the State. They've not been allowed to do that thus far but they've made it clear that they don't want him back in their house and he doesn't want to be there anyway.

Enter the social worker. She is an awesome woman who makes it clear that she is working for Zack's best interest but also sympathizes with us (aunt, uncle, hubby and me) about the difficulty of the situation. She called me when aunt and uncle first contacted the State about relinquishing and asked for my opinion of the situation, which I gave unflinchingly, and asked if we were an option for Zack's placement.

Until this past Wednesday hubby was vehemently against having Zack come here to live. Not because he doesn't care about the kid--because of the financial, emotional, and sanity draining nature of caring full time for a kid with as many problems as my number one son. However, after lengthy discussion with the social worker, we both agreed that we could do it. Not without many troubles and a lot of stress, but we can do it nonetheless. I forgot to include the LOVE part. Zack has a lot of love to give and he's fiercely loyal when you gain his trust and respect.

I am incredibly nervous going into this endeavor. I cried a little yesterday and I'm sure I will have many more days of stress and tears, but this life is coming full circle. He was with me at the beginning of his life and now he'll be with me at the end of his dependent life. It is my sincere hope that he will grow wings while he is here.

And soar when he leaves.

This and That

2007-10-11T10:39:00.000-07:00

I'm having a lot of feelings today and I need to get them out.

First, something funny.

My dog, Ruby.

For a long time she's had this habit of stealing stuffed animals from various places around the house and cuddling with them. She doesn't chew them up, she doesn't pee on them--she just moves them and licks them or cuddles them. Usually she does this when she's home alone.

So I've had this cute little scrubby bath-tub pig friend for a couple of years. I bought it to give to a friend who got married in October of 2005 because they love pigs. They call them "pink pork" because of a family member from Cuba who didn't know the word "pig" for a long time. I never got around to sending it because I'm a procrastinator and life always seems to get in the way.

A few weeks ago I noticed that Ruby had discovered Pink Pork in his hiding place and moved him onto my bed. I didn't scold Ruby because she's not doing anything bad and really it's pretty cute. So, I moved Pink Pork onto my dresser, which I thought was high enough that Ruby couldn't get to him, and I thought I would still send it or at least give it to another friend. Then I left for a while and came home to discover Pink Pork on the living room floor. I thought it was strange and put him back on my dresser. The next time I noticed Pink Pork in a place other than where I was sure I left him, I assumed my kids had gotten to him and were playing with him. I asked them both and they hadn't been playing with him so I wondered if I just thought I had put Pink Pork on the dresser.

So today I conducted a test. Before I left this morning to go have coffee with my dad, I made sure Pink Pork was on the dresser. Hubby had already left for work and kidlets were on the bus to school. When I came home about two hours later, Pink Pork was no longer on the dresser. He was on my bed, happy as a, well, pig! Obviously Ruby is enamoured with Pink Pork. The thing is, how did she manage to get him off of my dresser without knocking over any of the various things made of glass that are in front of the place where I put little Porky? I wish I had one of those video baby monitors so I could see how she does it.

I gave Pink Pork to Ruby. It's clear to me now that they belong together.

I think I'll save the other stuff for another post. I'm still working on slowing my brain down to pluck out a few thoughts.

Hasta luego, que les vayan bien.

Welcome Hank!

2007-10-10T19:38:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday, September 25 I received the phone call that I'd been waiting for. Iris was in labor and they wanted me to come. I've posted a few photos here, with permission from Iris and Solly, of her long and beautiful labor and, of course, their beautiful son, Henry "Hank" Orrin Perry. I won't go into details about the birth as it is their story to tell, but please enjoy the photos.

Summer Vacation Photo Essay

2007-10-09T09:31:00.000-07:00

Finally I am posting pics from our two-part vacation at the end of August/beginning of September!

We bought a new car this summer: a 2003 Subaru Outback--a car that I've been wanting since they first came out. The funny thing is, the other two families we went camping with have a 2000 blue Outback and a 2001 green Outback respectively. We looked like dorks but we didn't care!

Here she is on her maiden voyage!

This is Ruby's favorite way to travel.

But sometimes we make her go in the back with the kids.

Self-portrait with girl sticking her tongue out.

The first thing the kids wanted to do when we got there was go swimming. They were offered this raft to play on by some other people hanging around. Here are six-sevenths of the kids from all three of our families. R-L: Eli, Isaac, Jeremyah, Meadow, Michael, Caleb.

I'm so glad my kids learned how to swim...finally!

Despite his best efforts at dodging the camera, I caught this rare photo of Eli smiling.

Here are all seven kids at the table eating. R-L: Meadow, Isaac (you can only see his sleeves next to Meadow), Jeremyah, Josiah, Eli, Michael, Caleb.

Two of my best number one girls: Melanie and Meadow. Melanie is super-mom to Michael, Josiah, and Caleb.

This is Odin proving his skills. Bowhunting skills, computer hacking skills, beer opening skills. Odin is Melanie's hubby.

R-L: Jeff, Kim, and Melanie. Jeff and Kim are mom and dad to Eli and Isaac. Jeff is also the owner of the company that my hubby works for. He's probably the best boss in the world.

Odin says, "Peace out homechickens!"

Hubby and Melanie. Gawd I love these two!

A beautiful photo of two beautiful women. I love these two also!

Six out of seven kids (and a mom) adopting salute stance. I think they were saluting the hawthorn bushes. And of course, my defector daughter!

This beautiful snag was along side of the twisty-turning mountain road where we went for a hike in the hazy hills. There was a forest fire about 30 miles northwest that sent smoke all over, obscuring the ridges.

Ruby the trail dog. She had so much fun running as fast as she could and then turning around to see where we were.

The Columbia River Basin with a blanket of smoke hanging over it.

Michael turned 12 this month! He's very gifted with stringed instruments. I gave him my old bass guitar for his birthday.

Moonrise on the lake.

Jeff holding our finished-off bottle of Milagro Reposado tequila. Leyenda del milagro tequila!

Firelight sparks.

My Mellie and Me.

Kim with her lovely youngest son, both such a pleasure to have on the trip. I've only just begun to get to know Kim after being acquaintences for about 9 years. What an awesome mom and WOMAN!!

Mellie and Odin. Falling in love all over again!

On our way back to the highway from the lake we saw this cliff. Over the years people have scaled its rocky face to spray paint the year on it. Click on the photo to see it enlarged so you can see the painting. I think the earliest year we saw was 1928.

This is an old building in a settler's town that we saw on our way to my mom's house. We saw the sign for a historic town and thought it might be a ghost town, but it turned out that people live there still. It's a cute town, though.

For part two of our trip, hubby and I dropped the kids off at my mom's house and headed north to an island in the Straits. Here is hubby on the foggy morning ferry.

A month or so before, hubby and Jeff did a job on the island (they're environmental scientists doing wetland delineation and water and gas monitoring among other things) and stayed in an apartment on the piece of property they were working on. The Jeff made a deal with the owner, giving hubby and him the opportunity to bring wives to the island for a getaway, with the apartment being the accomodations. This is a big deal because accomodations on the island are sparse and expensive. It's a two bedroom, fully furnished apartment about a seven minute casual walk to the "downtown" area of the biggest town on the island.

Here's one of the bedrooms complete with a king sized bed which Ruby could sleep on with us!

A chair for Ruby.

The livingroom.

The dining area and kitchen behind it.

Cascade Lake.

A pretty pond.

Hubby, Ruby and I at the top of the highest point on the island. If you look closely you can see my hometown to the left of me across the water.

A big, beautiful cedar on the trail we hiked.

Light through stone window.

The tower at the top of the mountain.

Queen Anne's Lace. I never knew that when it goes to seed, the flowers form these little cups that look like hummingbird nests. Nature is so cool.

Lake reflection.

This was the view from our breakfast table the morning we left.

The ferry ride home.

Mountains upon the straits. These mountains have been my home since I was born. They give me comfort.

Sunset on the pond.

Thanks for scrolling through all of these pics. It was an awesome vacation. Much love to all of my companions...you all made it such a pleasure!

AWESOME!!

2007-10-03T15:35:00.000-07:00

Check This Out!!

Neonatal Resuscitation

2007-10-02T16:12:00.000-07:00

I have completed my first ever Neonatal Resuscitation Program (NRP).

It was a whirlwind affair as I had had very little sleep in the days preceeding and the class went on for 11 hours due to the number of people attending. I'd known for a couple of weeks that I was going to Portland for this course and by the time my deadline for leaving came around I was with a client who was two weeks overdue and in active labor when I had to leave.

And so, at 8:00 in the evening, after no sleep the night before, I left my cozy town for the big city and arrived to the safety of my very good friend's house around 12:30 a.m. on Thursday. I was able to sleep for about 6 hours before I had to get up and get ready for the class. It was difficult to sit in a large room with 50+ other people for 11 hours, but the instructor kept me very intrigued and engaged.

For anyone who has ever taken Karen Strange's NRP course, a new depth to the perception of birth has been attained. Anyone who hasn't taken her course, please do. It's not cheap...I paid $175 and had to travel 250 miles, but it's worth every penny, every mile.

Her spin on pregnancy, birth and childrearing is absolutely amazing. She provokes thought about the fetus/neonate's experience in utero, perinatally, and post partum and really advocates for birth to be as hands-off as possible. Obviously, a babe in distress shouldn't be left alone, but she advocates for the natural process of birth and really gets one thinking about all the things that are done to a baby when it is first born.

Karen teaches that each one of us has a cellular memory of our time in the womb and our experience being born and that it has the ability to shape who we are. She says that we should all try to make amends for the hard experiences and acknowledge the baby's part in getting born. She says that giving voice to the difficulties helps repair the damage done when a pregnancy or birth doesn't go as we expected or wanted.

For instance, I have huge plans to talk to my daughter about her very traumatic birth in which I almost lost my life. My apprehension lies in how to do this without causing her to fear her own body's ability to carry, birth and sustain life. It's all about the support crew, baby!!

Anyway, if you're interested in becoming a doula, midwife or birth assistant, or any other profession that has the potential to put you in a situation where neonatal resuscitation might come in handy, please..please..please find your way into one of Karen's classes.

Did I mention that she does all of this with humor?

karenmidwife@yahoo.com
www.newbornbreath.com

Yertle the Turtle

2007-09-25T19:56:00.000-07:00

This has been a favorite of mine for many years and, although I no longer have the book, I found the words on the Internet and thought I'd post them...lest anyone forget what greed can lead to.

On the far-away island of Sala-ma-Sond,
Yertle the Turtle was king of the pond.
A nice little pond. It was clean. It was neat.
The water was warm. There was plenty to eat.
The turtles had everything turtles might need.
And they were all happy. Quite happy indeed.

They were... until Yertle, the king of them all,
Decided the kingdom he ruled was too small.
"I'm ruler", said Yertle, "of all that I see.
But I don't see enough. That's the trouble with me.
With this stone for a throne, I look down on my pond
But I cannot look down on the places beyond.

This throne that I sit on is too, too low down.
It ought to be higher!" he said with a frown.
"If I could sit high, how much greater I'd be!
What a king! I'd be ruler of all that I see!"
So Yertle, the Turtle King, lifted his hand
And Yertle, the Turtle King, gave a command.

He ordered nine turtles to swim to his stone
And, using these turtles, he built a new throne.
He made each turtle stand on another one's back
And he piled them all up in a nine-turtle stack.
And then Yertle climbed up. He sat down on the pile.
What a wonderful view! He could see 'most a mile!

"All mine!" Yertle cried. "Oh, the things I now rule!
I'm the king of a cow! And I'm the king of a mule!
I'm the king of a house! And, what's more, beyond that
I'm the king of a blueberry bush and a cat!
I'm Yertle the Turtle! Oh, marvelous me!
For I am the ruler of all that I see!"

And all through the morning, he sat up there high
Saying over and over, "A great king am I!"
Until 'long about noon. Then he heard a faint sigh.
"What's that?" snapped the king
And he looked down the stack.
And he saw, at the bottom, a turtle named Mack.

Just a part of his throne. And this plain little turtle
Looked up and he said, "Beg your pardon, King Yertle.
I've pains in my back and my shoulders and knees.
How long must we stand here, Your Majesty, please?"
"SILENCE!" the King of the Turtles barked back.
"I'm king, and you're only a turtle named Mack."

"You stay in your place while I sit here and rule.
I'm the king of a cow! And I'm the king of a mule!
I'm the king of a house! And a bush! And a cat!
But that isn't all. I'll do better than that!
My throne shall be higher!" his royal voice thundered,
"So pile up more turtles! I want 'bout two hundred!"

"Turtles! More turtles!" he bellowed and brayed.
And the turtles 'way down in the pond were afraid.
They trembled. They shook. But they came. They obeyed.
From all over the pond, they came swimming by dozens.
Whole families of turtles, with uncles and cousins.
And all of them stepped on the head of poor Mack.
One after another, they climbed up the stack.

Then Yertle the Turtle was perched up so high,
He could see fourty miles from his throne in the sky!
"Hooray!" shouted Yertle. "I'm the king of the trees!
I'm king of the birds! And I'm king of the bees!
I'm king of the butterflies! King of the air!
Ah, me! What a throne! What a wonderful chair!I

'm Yertle the Turtle! Oh, marvelous me!
For I am the ruler of all that I see!"
Then again, from below, in the great heavy stack,
Came a groan from that plain little turtle named Mack.
"Your Majesty, please... I don't like to complain,
But down here below, we are feeling great pain.
I know, up on top you are seeing great sights,
But down here at the bottom we, too, should have rights.
We turtles can't stand it. Our shells will all crack
!Besides, we need food. We are starving!" groaned Mack.

"You hush up your mouth!" howled the mighty King Yertle.
"You've no right to talk to the world's highest turtle.
I rule from the clouds! Over land! Over sea!
There's nothing, no, NOTHING, that's higher than me!"
But, while he was shouting, he saw with suprise
That the moon of the evening was starting to rise
Up over his head in the darkening skies.

"What's THAT?" snorted Yertle. "Say, what IS that thing
That dares to be higher than Yertle the King?
I shall not allow it! I'll go higher still!
I'll build my throne higher! I can and I will!
I'll call some more turtles. I'll stack 'em to heaven!
I need 'bout five thousand, six hundred and seven!"

But, as Yertle, the Turtle King, lifted his hand
And started to order and give the command,
That plain little turtle below in the stack,
That plain little turtle whose name was just Mack,
Decided he'd taken enough. And he had.
And that plain little lad got a bit mad.
And that plain little Mack did a plain little thing.
He burped!And his burp shook the throne of the king!

And Yertle the Turtle, the king of the trees,
The king of the air and the birds and the bees,
The king of a house and a cow and a mule...
Well, that was the end of the Turtle King's rule!
For Yertle, the King of all Sala-ma-Sond,
Fell off his high throne and fell Plunk! in the pond!
And today the great Yertle, that Marvelous he,
Is King of the Mud. That is all he can see.
And the turtles, of course... all the turtles are free
As turtles and, maybe, all creatures should be.

Patience and Anticipation

2007-09-16T17:55:00.000-07:00

I am patiently anticipating the birth of a new baby. Or maybe I'm impatiently anticipating an upcoming birth. She is currently six days overdue and doesn't seem to be anywhere near labor! A cervical check at her midwife appointment last week revealed a very thin and two centimeters dilated cervix. And she's been having on and off cramps for a few weeks now. When I spoke with her this afternoon she said that she's been walking a lot every day and will begin other methods of self-induction tonight!

Last Friday night (the 7th) as I was in a that lucid-dreaming state I dreamed that the phone rang and it was my client's number on the caller ID. After that dream I felt sure that she would have her baby within 24 hours. However, she and I were dancing together the next evening at a wedding. And now, a week later, still no baby! Oh, the waiting!

Yes, I know, get used to it. I've been doulaing long enough to know that birth is unpredictable and on its very own schedule. But right now I'm still waiting in anticipation!

In the next few days I will post a story and some photos from my vacation at the end of last month. That will keep me busy for a little while.

From Louisa to Me to You!!

2007-09-14T15:00:00.000-07:00

The following quoted text is from Louisa, a student midwife for whom I have copious amounts of respect. She is talking about the woman in the picture, Tiffany, another student midwife for whom I have copious amounts of respect. Please, if you have any extra change laying around, donate what you can to help keep this amazing woman in midwifery school. She really IS a woman that you would want there for you throughout your pregnancy and when you are in labor and giving birth. She deserves this education. Pass this message on. E-mail it, post it, myspace bulletin it!

"Meet Tiffany. She's one of my classmates. She's amazing. Tiffany is many things; smart, smart single mother of a lovely 7 y/o, part owner of a small business, massage therapist, reiki practitioner with a masters degree. She will one day be an awesome midwife, and will join the ranks of the few Certified Professional Midwifes currently practicing in Nevada, a state where non-nurse midwifery remains alegal.

"She is 100% my kind of midwife.Tiffany is in desperate need of some financial assistance to help her manage the tuition costs at the Seattle Midwifery School. For the past year she has managed all of her many jobs, as well as the 40+ hrs a week of study which our midwifery program requires and the monthly commute to Seattle from her home in Reno, and the lack of income that time away from her work requires also. She also recently added practicum responsibilities as we accumulate the hands on apprenticeship component of our education. Scholarships for midwifery education (as many of you well know!) are few and far between. Financing this journey is challenging at best, but it would be a travesty if she were to lose this opportunity just because of stupid money, or lack thereof!

"So, If you feel like opening your heart to a wonderful woman who is working harder than I think I've ever seen one human work to make this calling of hers (ours) a reality, I encourage you to join me in contributing financially to her cause. Any amount, no matter how small will go directly to her tuition bill and I will personally ensure that any and all contributions make it there smartly. If you are lucky enough to live in her vicinity, I wouldn't mind betting that in a couple of years you'll have a fine midwife standing by to catch your baby in return for your kindness!If you are interested in helping, and/or would like more information about Tiffany, please shoot me an e-mail mlwaleshall at gmail dot com and I'll give you all the information you need to help one of Reno's finest student midwives!

"There is a world of excellent karma waiting for you :)

Cheers,Louisa"

A New Path on my Journey

2007-09-09T10:59:00.000-07:00

Well, I am not going to do the doula job with the Mother Baby Center. On Friday a new offer was made to me and I simply can't resist.

The midwife who delivered my youngest child, someone for whom I have a universal amount of respect, asked me if I would be interested in birth assisting. She said that the midwives are in desperate need of assistants and she will pay me $200 per birth.

I was absolutely floored.

I was nervous that it was a dream that I would soon awaken from.

I was nervous that she would change her mind.

I was nervous that I don't have the skill set necessary to be such a significant part of the birth process.

However, she told me that really all I need to do is take a Neonatal Resuscitation (NNR) course and the rest, either I already know or will learn along the way.

The only thing that was holding me back from knowing that this is definitely going to happen was the money. That's a shitty thing to dictate what my path will be, but it's an issue. We just bought a car and now have a $300/month car payment and I need to bring in some money.

But she called me this morning and offered me $200 for each birth, which will be plenty of money considering how busy she is. So I am off to Portland at the end of this month to take the NNR class and coming back ready for the parade of laboring ladies!

I will still return to midwifery school because, ultimately, I want to hold the reins. I want to offer other baby midwives the opportunity to make their dreams come true. I think my return is somewhat unpredictable at this point, and is looking more and more like January of 2009.

On Racism, Tolerance, and Acceptance

2007-09-06T09:17:00.000-07:00

It's taken me a couple of days to arrange this post in a way that makes me want to post. I guess you could call this a disclaimer because I still feel so uncomfortable dealing with the issue of racism and I'm still learning how to talk about it. I welcome comments and suggestions.

A couple of days ago I was just sad. Now I'm angry. ANGRY. A. N. G. R. Y.

I want to know why our newspapers and TV stations haven't had anything to say about the Jena Six. I want to know why this isn't national news. Why are we not outraged as a nation that this kind of behavior still flies. Why do I continue to be sheltered from this ugly reality so that I am afraid to have a conversation about racism?

Have we not learned anything over the last 400 years?

You see, I live in a sheltered little city in the Pacific Northwest, where our demographic consisted of mainly Asians, Caucasians and Native Americans until about 10 or 15 years ago. At 33 years old, I've only experienced a few times the racism that still exists between Blacks and Whites and it happened in other cities.

Except for once.

You see, there are racist skinheads here. But only once did I actually see them harrassing anyone. And I ended it as soon as I was witness to it. I don't hate them because I think it is wrong to hate. I think hate just puts me on their level.

And I certainly can't hate anyone for the way they look or what they believe. I choose, instead, to stay out of their way if I feel threatened or uncomfortable.

Unless they're hurting someone else. Then I will stand in the middle until they go away.

But what else can I do?

What is this concept of "tolerance?"

In my opinion, tolerance implies that something has to be put up with. If I am "tolerant" of something, that means (to me) that I have to put up with something that annoys me or makes me feel uncomfortable. Like I should be "tolerant" of a strange man putting his hands up my shirt.

Can we change that word to "acceptance?"

As in, "I accept you for who you are. Your human-being story, your skin, your hair. Everything that makes you who you are." I don't have to like you or hang out with you if you hurt me or do things that I don't want to do or make me feel uncomfortable. But I accept that you are different and the same as me.

You and I have the same insides.

Liver
Lungs
Stomach
Small and large intestine
Zygomatic bone
Metatarsals
Surfactant
Etcetera...

The difference is what covers it. That's the physical difference.

Well, and reproductive organs (wink wink).

What do I do to help my children understand the differences that are important and the ones that are not? Do I want them to be color-blind or do I want them to notice the difference in skin color? Do I want them to pretend like there is no difference between them or do I want them to embrace and respect it the same way that they notice different hair and eye colors?

I think the significant factor that we are missing as a nation is the difference between right and wrong. Did the parents of these children in Jena teach them that it was OK to hang nooses in a tree and taunt other kids with racial slurs? Did they teach their children that it's OK to brutally beat someone for taunting them? How do you teach a child to stand up for themselves without resorting to violence? How is it that the one child that has gone to trial thus far had an all-white jury?

What's the missing link in this situation?

Is it education? Is it tolerance? Is it acceptance?

Violence begets violence. Does one have to be educated to understand this?

During my first week of midwifery school my class was asked to engage in an activity in which a statement was made (from the instructor) and we were asked to take sides and try to convince the "other side" to agree with us. The instructor made the statement, "It's OK for black people to use the word "ni..er" but it's not OK for white people to say it." This brought about a complete meltdown within the structure of the class. There were several students from other countries, and only one Black student. When ladies from other countries didn't understand the big deal about this word I tried to explain that it has the power to evoke violence. I understand that it's used in the Black community but I would never use that word for the same reasons that I wouldn't call a gay person by one of the many slang words used to identify them. I don't identify with the word so it isn't mine to use. Many of us ended up crying and it effectively ended our session for the day.

I guess I am the ultimate hypocrite in that I was absolutely unwilling to deal with the racism issue because there was one Black woman in our class. I can't tell you why. I think it's my upbringing and the fact that, as a racism-sheltered white woman, I'm afraid that what I would say would be offensive to the one Black woman. It's a very strange mix of emotions for me. I don't have a problem discussing prejudism against gays and lesbians with my gay and lesbian friends. Why the fuck am I so afraid of discussing racism with black people?

I am naive.

If anyone has anything to say to me regarding this post, PLEASE say it. I need to learn how to deal with this issue because in my dreams of serving women through their pregnancies and births, I see people of all colors, nationalities, and cultures.

Gearing Up

2007-08-25T14:38:00.000-07:00

It's almost time for back-to-school! my youngest will be in third grade; middle will be a fifth grader; and eldest will begin what is supposed to be his junior year as a sophomore even though he's still technically a half a credit short of finishing his freshman year. I have to say this has been a most difficult summer for me. The youngest two were home for most of the summer, fighting more than they played and although we've been very busy, we haven't done much that has constituted a vacation. I'm ready for them to go back to school. The eldest, Zack, has done his share of jail time this summer and I'm glad that he'll have something he's supposed to be focusing on. Hopefully he'll hunker down this year and try to do a good job.

For the remainder of this summer break we are doing stuff. Monday we leave to go camping for four days with two other families that are dear friends. Thursday we'll take the kids to my mom's and leave them there on Friday while James and I go on a romantic getaway to an undisclosed location. We come home Monday and the kids go back to school on Tuesday! Hooray!!

During the second week of September I have an interview for the doula program through the Mother Baby Center. I have been waiting since May for this and I am so excited. I also have a client due on September 10 and I'm praying that she doesn't go into labor a couple of weeks early.

Hope you've all had a happy summer.

Playing Tag

2007-08-23T22:49:00.000-07:00

RULES - Post rules before giving the facts - Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves - People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules - At the end of your post you need to tag six people and list their names - Leave them a comment on their blog, telling them they have been tagged and not to forget to read yours.

Eight Random Facts About Me

1. My grandparents didn't have electricity, telephone, indoor plumbing, and the only heat they had was from the woodstove. We used an outhouse until my grandfather built a little bathroom onto the shack and installed a toilet and shower stall. I think that happened in the mid-eighties, but there still wasn't any running water. We had to carry buckets of water to flush the toilet and to take a shower, one had to take a bucket of hot water and one of cold into the shower stall and basically take a sponge bath. I think they got a phone in the late eighties or maybe even 1990. Electricity came about the same time as phone and later there was running water. The house was a shack with a tiny kitchen/dining area, a very small living room, and a sturdy, steep flight of stairs that led to the one room upstairs. I lived there for a while with my family when I was very small, and was there on many weekends and most holidays until the property was sold in 2001. Very sad day indeed.

2. I love photography. Those who have read my past posts know this. I still haven't made the switch from 35mm to digital and I doubt I ever will completely switch. I love 35mm. Currently I don't even have a digital camera although I would like to have a simple one just for the instant gratification. I would love to have one of the really nice ones but the one I want is about $2000 and I can't afford that. A while back my husband offered to buy me a nice digital ($5-600) if it would help cut back on film and developing costs. What I didn't know is that he meant I had to give up my 35mm all together. I declined. :)

Here are some newer photos I'm proud of:

Here is my wonderful hubby and dog silhouetted by a glorious August sunset on Birch Bay. As I learned from Niki, you can click on the pic and see it full-screen. Go ahead, you know you want to!

This is also an August Birch Bay sunset, taken about 3 days later.

This is the Inkwell Rhythm Makers playing at Seattle Folklife Festival. May 2007.

I took this pic at the restaurant that I work at. This guy's name is Brian, he works in the kitchen and had just gotten off work and came in for a beer. The light was hitting the bar just right so I asked him to just look at the beer and look sad like all he wants in the world is to drink that beer. I think it turned out perfect.

3. I love tending bar. For some twisted reason, I get a lot of gratification from someone telling me that I make the best Bloody Mary they've ever had. I also like the social aspect of it. You can learn a lot about a person just by serving them drinks.

4. I have a small skull collection. The current inventory includes two deer, a beaver, and a heron. I love that I'm able to name and locate certain bony prominances and specific features such as the zygomatic arch, post-orbital constriction, and the styloid process. My husband found the two deer skulls (and some vertebrae) when he was out working at a couple of different wetlands; a friend and I found the beaver on the Seattle Midwifery School campus; and my daughter found the heron during the wedding reception I posted about, which took place at our friend's 15 acre estate on the Nooksack River.

5. I'm a novel junkie. I absolutely love to read novels and I go through them very quickly. I have a list that I've read several times but I'm always looking for something new. A few titles I've read more than once:

The Fifth Sacred Thing by Starhawk

The Mists of Avalon, Lady of Avalon, and The Forest House by Marion Zimmer Bradley

The Clan of the Cave Bear, Valley of Horses, and Plains of Passage by Jean Auel

Roots by Alex Haley

My three new favorites that I read this summer are Moon Women by Pamela Duncan; A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini; Prodigal Summer by Barbara Kingsolver.

6. I used to have road rage really bad. So bad that some of my closest friends wouldn't ride in my car. That has ebbed almost completely unless I'm in a bit of a hurry then I get frustrated by people who don't pay attention to traffic. I used to flip people off all the time and sometimes even yell out the window. The last time I had any kind of altercation in traffic was about two years ago and I wasn't the one who was the instigator. I was at a red light at an intersection where two lanes turn left. I was in the outer lane and this lady was in the inner. As we were both making a left turn, the other woman merged into my lane, almost causing an accident so I beep-beeped at her and waved. I was completely not aggressive at all, just a friendly wave to let her know I was there. She then sped up to about 40 mph in a 25 zone and flipped me off. As I approached the next red light, she was again in the inner lane and I looked over at her. She had her passenger side window down and was obviously very irate. I had a choice to make--I could ignore her and just go when the light turned green or I could roll down my window and see what she had to say. As my window came down, I was attacked by a stream of profanity that would rival my sailor grandfather. I tried to explain to her that there are two lanes that turn left and we have to be careful at that intersection and she just kept yelling at me. I kind of lost my temper and said something (I can't remember what) that really pissed her off and she said, "Don't make me get out of this car," like she was my mom and ready to pull the car over to give me a spanking. I kind of chuckled and said, "Oh please, you little bitch." Well, that did it and she jerked her e-brake and jumped out of her car. 15-20 years ago I would have jumped out of my car and scrapped her, but I had a choice to make. My husband was in the passenger seat and my 6 year old son was in the back. I could engage in this stupid fight or I could press ever so lightly on the gas and go. The light turned green and I went. All of this happened over about two minutes at a red light. Pretty bad, eh?

7. I'm a slob. No, really. You should see my house. It's perpetually messy and it's not because I have children. It's because I'm lazy. The floor hasn't been vacuumed in two weeks, the bathroom walls are gross, the toilet needs to be cleaned. Am I taking care of it? NO! I'm blogging!

8. Yo hablo un poquito espanol. I took three Spanish classes in community college and would love to become fluent. If I was immersed into a Spanish-speaking community I think I would become fluent very quickly.

Who shall I tag?

I tag:

Shark-fu

Addie

Tombi

Clara

I think that's all I can tag. Everyone else in my linx have been tagged!

I apologize for everything being squished together. For some reason, blogger will not allow me to put spaces between paragraphs.

Love and Marriage

2007-08-19T15:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was priveleged to be the matron of honor and witness to the marriage of two good friends. The bride has been a close friend for more than seven years and I have known the groom for about ten. She was the singer in the band I played bass for, Juicebox, and has been close with my husband for nearly 15 years. The groom is the drummer and singer for my husband's band.
I took on the task of putting together the bridal bouquet, boutonnieres and corsages. Here I am at 10:30 Friday night preparing for a 10:30 Saturday morning ceremony.

The finished product:

The bride with her hair done:

Ready to walk down the aisle:

Groomsmen and best boys (my husband and son in the middle):

The groom (red shirt, white tie) watching his bride approach. The officiant is the also the bride's father.

The bride and groom coming down the aisle.

Just married. Patrick and Patricia!

A kiss before the cake.

The bride vamping with the cake.

They love it, ladies and gentlemen!

The newlywed channeling her inner Betty Page.

The two best Emilys that ever lived. (Sorry Ms. Dickinson).

My camouflaged shining green jewel of an almost-11-year-old daughter.

Playing on the river's edge.

A family's love is the greatest bond. Keith, Karin and Chloe (their son Lucas was too busy coloring and saving the world to be in this photo).

Cake smashers!

Lovebirds! Brett and Kim, together since the beginning of time!

Love my ladies! Gretchen, Kim, Jaime, Patricia, me, Deb.

You're not going to try and look up my skirt are you? Again?

No love like a mother's love.

My nephew, Jaden. Emily is his mom. Can you tell which one?

My radiant friends are so wonderful! Iris and Addie.

I've known the guy in orange for 19 years. His mom took me in as a runaway when I was 14. The other guy is my tattoo artist, doula client (his wife is in the last picture) and friend of 15 years. Izak and Solly.

Hot Carl riding the high hat.

"That is the funniest thing I've ever heard!"

My husband's boss and good friend, Jeff, his wife, Kim (in glasses), and our very dear friend, Melanie. Her third baby was my first time as a doula. Kisses to you, Mel. I love you!

Patricia: one part beauty queen, one part wife, ALL WOMAN!!

Keith and Chloe having some downtime.

Hot Carl on drums, Matt the Incredible Funkmeister on bass, The Hottest Husband on the Block on guitar and my son, the next winner of the Air Guitar World Championship.

Friends all around!

Random shot of the property where the reception was held, owned by good friends. Thanks Erin and Jer!

Love in the setting sun...

What a great party that was. Just so's y'all can see what it looks like, I'll post a pic or two of me in my weddin' getup. I truly love you guys, Patrick and Patricia. Thanks for an opportunity to lavish upon you all the love and gratitude I feel for you. May your lives continue to be rich with love and light with happiness.

Upcoming Births

2007-08-13T13:13:00.001-07:00

My friend and client is gearing up for labor very near labor day! She's 37 weeks now (if you go by the ultrasound-generated due date; 36 weeks going by dates calculation. I just realized this morning that I will be on vacation right around her due date and am making plans in case I have to make a quick trip home. I've decided that if there are changes in her cervix between now and when I'm supposed to leave then I'm going to stay behind while my family goes camping with some friends. In the event of labor coming on suddenly, I will plan to be ready to leave right away at any given moment to make the 4.5 hour trip back to town, hoping that this first-baby will be a longer labor. Of course, she's pretty in tune with her body and I think she'll know when she is in pre-labor. Any suggestions from midwives and doulas?

I went to see a couple of friends at their recently-opened Italian deli on Saturday and discovered that they are pregnant as well! In fact, they are in the same birth class as my current clients. Yeah, I cried when I realized that they're going to have a baby this October. I think it was a combination of PMS and seeing my friend all grown up. He said for a long time that he didn't want any babies, but seeing his wife and him at work together in their deli made it an emotional moment for me. This is a guy who I'd never have thought would fulfill his dream of opening an honest-to-goodness deli (friends on the east coast, you can feel where I'm coming from with that) and have a baby. When I get permission from them, I'll post a pic I took of them in their beautiful deli.

On The Road Again

2007-08-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

It's been a bit so I better continue my story. I've had a couple of requests. Where were we...oh yes, I-70 in Colorado.

The first thing that happened when we hit I-70 was we got pulled over. I think we had been traveling for a little under and hour when Tom muttered, "Oh shit." And I looked to see two state patrol cars flipping a u-turn in the median. Tom must have been going pretty fast because the officers were aggressive about turning around and catching up to us. Of course, with no driver's license between the two of us, we were looking at some trouble--we were at least going to be searched and we had a bong in the back of the car. Needless to say, they found it. Frosty the Snowman. Tom tried to convince the cops that it was a gift from a friend who had since passed away, but they weren't buying his bullshit and they confiscated it. We actually were let go. Even though we had been caught with a bong and neither of us had a driver's license, they let us go. Amazing.

Try as I might, I'm never able to clearly remember all the events of this leg of the trip. Names of towns that I thought I'd never forget are failing me. Maybe if I look at an atlas I could figure it out.

Tried the atlas...I have no idea.

Tom had decided at this point that we would beg at churches for food and gas money. He said that if we made sure to go to Catholic Churches they wouldn't turn us away. However, the first church we stopped at was a Baptist Church. Of course, I have no idea what town we were in, only that we had definitely crossed the state line into the land of flat golden wheat fields; also known as Kansas.

On a Saturday night, we pulled in to the parking lot of a church and Tom approached a door to knock on it. When answered, Tom explained that we were passing through town with no money and no place to stay but we didn't feel comfortable continuing because we were so tired that driving any further would surely result in an accident. So the pastor of the church put us up in a motel and invited us to service the next morning. We obliged the congregation by attending the next morning's services and the most amazing thing happened right before my religion-denying, bitterly agnostic eyes. When the pastor sent the tithing plate, he told the congregation that, instead of keeping the donations from that Sunday's tithe, he would be giving it to us in blessing for a safe journey. We were then invited to brunch at a restaurant with all of them. After the meal none would let us use the money from that morning's tithe to pay for our food and even handed us more money. I think we left there with about $70.

We were floored. Astounded. Struck dumb.

When we left this congregation of people I had more faith in the goodness of God than I ever had in my life. Even to this day.

Of course, the money was gone by the time we hit Topeka, the only place we stopped in the great state of Kansas whose name I can remember. To this day I don't know what happened to all that money over the distance, but when we got to Topeka we were looking for another benefactor.

The two main things I remember about Topeka are the shelter we stayed in and the hitch-hiker we picked up. I'm trying to remember if we had already picked him up when we got there or if it was the next day, on our way out. I guess it doesn't matter. What matters is that he drove me absolutely mad. The shelter wasn't really that remarkable. It was not unlike other shelters I've stayed in over the years, but for some reason it left a permanent imprint on my brain akin to my first drinking or pot-smoking experience.

Anyway, from Topeka to Baton Rouge, Louisiana there isn't much to tell about. Somewhere in the first 24 hours of riding with the hitch-hiker we discovered he was an serious alcoholic, which posed a series of irritating circumstances in the dry counties of Arkansas. By the time we reached Texarkana on the state line between Texas and Arkansas (bet you couldn't guess where that was), I was about a step and a half away from murdering the hitch-hiker with my bare hands. The only whining I have ever heard, even now, that equalled this guys incessant blithering over the fact that he had no alcohol was the night Rabbit missed his vein and shot heroin into the decimated musculature of his arm. And so it was in the lovely town of Shreveport, Louisiana that we gave him a five dollar bill and asked him to run into a convenience store to buy some cigarettes...and left. Without him.

I think we rode the first 45 minutes in total silence. It was glorious.

Then we decided to switch drivers.

Tom had been driving pretty much straight through from Topeka to Shreveport, stopping a few times for gas and to either scam or beg money for food and gas, so we agreed to switch just outside of Shreveport. As I pulled out into the small amount of traffic, I checked my rearview mirror and saw no one. However, as soon as I turned left onto the freeway onramp, I saw blue and red lights behind me. I pulled to the right and awaited the officers arrival at my window. He asked for my license and registration, with which I quickly obliged, and waited for him to ask me why I thought he would mistake my Washington State ID card for a valid driver's license. Instead he asked, "What were you doing when this picture was taken?" Then I realized that the picture on my ID card had been taken shortly after shaving my head at the end of October of 1993. Not only was I bald, but I was pale, having been out of the sun for a few months. I think he expected me to say that I was a heroin junkie living on the streets of Seattle. However, I replied by explaining to him that I was living in an apartment and working as a CNA at a nursing home. He then took my ID back to his car for what seemed like an eternity. Upon his return he said, "Well, your name came back clean for now, but I'm going to keep an eye out. You can be sure that when I find what I'm looking for, I'll find you." His throaty southern drawl still rings in my head when I retell this story. I was terrified.

The rest of that day's drive was uneventful. Lots of oil rigs in people's back yards. Shanty towns and little villages and miles and miles of green highway with sometimes tiny canals giving the quickest glimpses of Deep South Swampland.

Heaven, or Hell?

Knowledge. Gratitude. Love. Blessings.

2007-08-03T12:08:00.000-07:00

What is knowledge?

Shining wisdom that has the power to connect the mind to the heart, or disconnect the soul from the mind?

Throughout time many have sojourned to find the truth within borders that do not exist. Some brought knowledge to others, many died trying.

Is it enough to simply say that I know why the sky turns red with the setting of the sun in the west? If challenged, could I explain it? Would I use words like "particles" and "refraction of light?" Would I simply turn up my nose at the idea of someone challenging my wisdom?

I think it would depend on the person. If it were someone with whom I enjoy pondering the wonders of the world, it would be a pleasure to engage in this conversation. If it were someone with whom I don't get along, I may find it irritating and exhausting to explain and I may hide behind my false sense of pride, feigning self-assuredness that I DO know what I'm talking about. Why would I need to prove to anyone that I am knowledgeable?

Does this make me evil? Intolerant? I do not have infinite patience. Just ask my children. My lack of patience is my most prominent weakness, my Achilles heel.

Even the Zen Master has an Achilles heel. Something that makes him human. Few are beyond reproach. None are perfect.

The quest for perfection saturates everything. Its many manifestations permeate the very air we breathe, suffocating and reducing us. From the noblest to the most petty, the things we seek to perfect bring us down.

I ran into a friend today that I haven't seen in some time. She has always been very environmentally and natural-health conscious, buying exclusively natural, organic and eco-friendly foods and products; riding her bike everywhere instead of driving her car; recycling--going out of her way to find facilities that would take whatever recycling items our own facility would not take; composting, etc.

Her small body is riddled with cancer. She has tumors on her lungs and liver that are growing instead of shrinking in response to treatments. Her skin is jaundiced and swollen, the belly that sustained and contained her children swells over her frightfully thin hips, showcasing the tumors that are sucking her life from her. There is a very strong possibility that her cancer is a result of pollution. Breathing in the exhaust from cars she biked behind for so many years, and living next to a stream that is reported to contain several cancer-causing agents are likely the cause of her cancer. Irony in it's most evil form.

Yet she smiles.

She smiles when she talks about her son's upcoming wedding, her husband, her sister's trip to the U.S. from Israel for the wedding, her father's upcoming surprise 80th birthday celebration.

Through all this sickness and uncertainty, she is grateful. To stop and talk with her was a lesson in gratitude. I almost didn't do it. I was feeling very selfish. I haven't been feeling well and she has always been one of those friends that you had to make sure you had a bit of time to chat with if you planned on approaching her. I can't tell you how many college classes I was late getting to because I stopped to say hi to this friend.

I am so glad I stopped to say hi. Watching her pull out a photo of her son and his bride-to-be, the way she was glowing while she told me (again) how they had been together since their first year of college, was a blessing. A blessing that I almost passed up.

What is knowledge? Is it something learned from books? A feeling or sensation emanating from within? Is it a chance encounter with a person from whom the most valuable of life's lessons can be learned?

Don't count your blessings, friends, for counting them will only make you sad when one day you miscount or discover one missing. They aren't ethereal beings that remain with you always. They are like the rivers and tides, always changing, ebbing and flowing; like the wind, breathing softly at your neck or pounding at your back as you walk down the beach.

Don't count your blessings, friends. Keep your eyes open and your soul ready for them--they find you in the most unexpected ways.

Love. Gratitude.

Hubby's Birthday Party

2007-07-26T23:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was hubby's 35th birthday and we celebrated with food, drink and good friends. We had a great time and the only blunder, really, was when Hubby and I realized that we were both too intoxicated to grill the salmon...fun fun!!

Some shots of the party fun:

Crowd shot.

Some of "the guys"

That's my best number one right there in the middle

My friend Jeremy and me

Shout out to the ladies!

A Thousand Splendid Suns

2007-07-25T12:34:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that I am a voracious reader? I average three to four books a month. Most of them novels. This month I read two of my favorite novels to date: Prodigal Summer, by Barbara Kingsolver; and A Thousand Splendid Suns, by Khaled Hosseini.

Although I've tried to read Kingsolver novels before, I've never really been able to get into them. Prodigal Summer, however, proved to be the one that hooked me in. Now that I have a better understanding of her writing, I think I will try to read some of her other works.

Prodigal Summer follows the lives of disconnected people living in Zebulon Valley in Virginia--a fictional place as far as I can tell--and entangles them each with one another in very interesting ways.

A Thousand Splendid Suns is the story of three generations of Afghani women from the 1950s through the turn of the century. It is a story filled with grief and heartache with tiny rays of sunshine and joy. I finished this book this morning, tears streaming down my face. If you've ever wondered what it's really like for not only women in Afghanistan, but people in general, this book will give you a perspective that is wholly heart-wrenching and utterly real. The only part I will give away is this:

The Taliban has taken over and women are no longer allowed to work or go outside by themselves. There are separate hospitals for women and men in Kabul--the men have several hospitals, the women only have one. One of the heroines is ready to have a baby and is sent to the women's hospital where there is no clean water or supplies. The character in the story then undergoes a cesarean section without anesthetic.

Babysitting and Birds & Bees

2007-07-19T12:44:00.000-07:00

I've been babysitting two gorgeous little girls for the last month and a half or so. They're 2 and 4 year old sisters, kids of a couple of friends of mine. Every Monday, Thursday and Friday they show up here with smiles on their faces and hang out for four hours. It's fun. Last week we did finger painting, which turned into feet painting and a trip to the bathtub. Today I think we're going to make collages. I have a whole bunch of old National Geographic and Rolling Stone magazines. I wanted to collect them but hubby is getting irritated with the boxes of magazines and wants them gone. So I figured a good way to do it would be to make collages!

My almost-11-year-old daughter has entered the second Tanner stage. My mom and I had an arguement about menarche last weekend when we were visiting. She was trying to convince me that menarche would occur within six months now that thelarche is evident, but I tried to gently explain to her that there generally was a 1--3 year interim between the two and it wasn't likely that we would see menarche for another year at least.

So she decided to bet me that menarche would occur before this coming January. She's going to lose $50 and then hubby and I will go out to dinner!

HA!

New Challenges, Old People

2007-07-10T09:09:00.000-07:00

My grandmother is in the beginning stages of dementia. We thought it was alzheimer's for a time but we've known for a while that it's actually dementia.

So, I haven't been a very good grand daughter. I've rarely been to visit her in the last several years unless some other family member is there, and so, even though I live across town from her, she doesn't even know me or my children half the time because we never go over there.

My aunt and uncle (the same ones who adopted my son) have been taking care of all of her business--everything legal and/or medical for a long time now. They go over to her house every day to make sure she takes her pills and to visit with her for a little while. Then she usually goes over to the senior center and does volunteer work and plays cards.

This week my aunt and uncle are gone until Sunday and I have taken on the responsibility of making sure grandma gets her pills and some family visit time every day. Yesterday was the first time I was over there without other family members in a long time. It was an interesting experience. I could sense that every other time she looked at me she couldn't really figure out who I was. Then we would chat for a bit and talk with the kids. And every few moments she would realize that I was there to "babysit" her and she would tell me that she's too old for a babysitter and she doesn't understand why everyone makes such a fuss. I just replied that we love her and want to make sure that she gets her pills so she stays well. Her mood is pretty variable. I'm just not sure if she'll be in good humor or feeling grumpy.

My grandma is very independent. She always has been. She walks every day and has since I was old enough to remember. My grandpa died in October of 2003--almost four years ago--and grandma seems to have really gone downhill from there. But she still walks every day and gets out of the house. She sure is stubborn!

I sure love her and am glad to have this excuse to visit her regularly again.

Old Challenges

2007-06-25T09:19:00.000-07:00

As I watch the seasons make a feeble attempt at changing--solstice passed and still it rains and rains and rains--I am faced with some old challenges. Again I am stuck in the middle of something that it difficult for me to deal with. I'm going to go out an a limb here and hope that a certain someone is not reading. Or maybe I'm hoping she is because, obviously, I don't have the cajones to say it to her face.

The saddest thing about it is that it directly involves my son...

I should begin with some recent history.

As some of my "readers" may remember, part of the reason I took a hiatus from school is that my 16 year-old son was hell bent on trouble. He was doing things that, although I did them when I was his age, I had hoped that he would take a different path. This child was born when I was still a child (see one of my first posts, called "Tibial Tuberosities and Trivial Tubers" on January 25, 2007). The truncated version of that story is that my father's brother and sister-in-law adopted my baby when he was 2 and so began a whirlwind cycle of love and anger that continues to this day.

My son, Zack (for some reason they changed the spelling of his name to Zach even though it's a "k" on his birth certificate), has been a troubled child for most of his life. It seems that, for my aunt and uncle, when he was a cute baby he was the cat's meow, but as he grew older and his issues began to surface he wasn't so cute anymore. He was an angry child. Given what he'd been through as a baby and toddler, there's not a question about the origin of those anger issues. He started getting into trouble at school when he was in kindergarten. He was very forward about his anger and had a lot of difficulty controlling it. He has never done well in school and is one of those kids who gets caught for every little thing he does--even when it's really not his fault. Other kids will pick fights with him and he gets in trouble for it because he can't control his anger.

The other side of this is that he has an older brother through his adoptive family. The brother never got caught for any of the mischevious things he did and thus was treated as a saint. There was a lot of inequality between the two of them. The brother is definitely "the golden child," and Zack is clearly "the black sheep." One example of the brother's nastiness comes about when I was pregnant with my second child. I was at a family function, about 8 months pregnant, and the kid walked up to me and said, "You're not going to dump that one on us, too, are you?" My jaw about hit the floor. I couldn't believe he said that. He apologized at the demand of his mother, but there were never any other consequences. If Zack had done something like that, he would probably be banished from every teenaged leisure and made to work in the yard for a week. That might be an exaggeration, but as I watch things unfold, I see that it's not all that far from reality.

To the brother's credit, he has, in the recent past, been trying to make up for all the shit Zack went through while growing up in that house. Because, frankly, the brother wasn't very nice to Zack, either.

It seemed that, as Zack began to cost more money in therapy and lost work time, my aunt and uncle began liking him less and not being shy about showing it. I can't remember the last time I witnessed my aunt being nice to him. It's like a war between Zack and his mom. Things are very tense and cool and she's begun dropping bombs.

Fast forward:

Zack began his high school career in 2005-2006 with a reputation for trouble and quickly found the crowd that he fit in with best. He began skipping school and never turned in his homework, even when he did it. Before long he was gone from class more than he was there and he was failing in all his classes. It took summer school last year for him to make it into his sophomore year, and even then he was still behind by a credit or two. By the end of fall of last year he didn't care at all about school and was using the school bus merely as a means to get into town from his county home, only to run off with a group of friends to get high and walk around town.

My aunt and uncle went to court and had Zack declared "Youth At Risk," and he then had a legal obligation to stay in school and behave himself. Having been a wild child myself, I knew that this would only give him the opportunity to brag to all his friends about going to juvenile detention. When you hang with that particular crowd, going to "juvy" gives you status, makes you cool.

Of course he went to juvenile detention.

Twice. For a week each time.

At this point there had been talks about Zack going to Job Core (Corps?) as a way of helping him get on the right track. I have always felt that putting him with a bunch of kids that are also troublemakers would be a bad idea because it's what he wants. He wants to be the bad kid at this point. It's attractive to him. One evening while he was hanging out here at our house, talking about how cool all those kids are that live on the street and have nothing, the kids who live in Compton and South Central L.A. and Long Beach--gangsters whose only way of living is selling drugs and staying with their gangs. So I told him that I know people in Long Beach and Compton and if wants to go there I put him on a train. He thought that was a great idea. He actually thought I would do it. I tried to explain to him what it's like. To walk down the street with you eyes to the ground, hoping that no one asks you what the fuck you're doing there. The streets might look appealing until you're looking down the barrel of a gun (which, yes, I have been in that situation).

Anyway, he went to Job Core. He was there for 6 weeks or so before he got booted. He fell in with a group of like-minded kids and so began his downward spiral. Ultimately, he found himself in the parking lot of a grocery store on a day pass from campus, asking people to buy beer for himself and a friend. When finally he got he alcohol, he decided he wanted some candy and entered the store with no money. He got caught shoplifting and tried to run, but in the process he knocked down a female employee at the store and was subsequently apprehended.

So he's been home now for a few weeks. He's been working, doing random landscaping jobs that my uncle has set up, until my uncle got fed up with trying to get Zack to do the job the right way. Now he has to be babysat, which is why he's here at my house, weedwhacking my sizable yard. When he was dropped off, the instructions my aunt left were that Zack was to be outside all day, rain or shine, working, doing whatever I want him to do with only one 15-minute break so that he can "learn what it's like to be in the real-world work force."

Um, auntie, we live in Washington State in the USA, which means that there are labor laws. Allow me to explain:

1. Any child under the age of 18:
a. has to be in school (I think)
b. cannot work more than 20 hours per week

2. The law states that, for every four hours worked, there is one 10-minute break allowed; for every eight hours worked, there are two 15-minute breaks and one half-hour break allowed.

Anyway, things are coming to a head. He's going to be 18 in 1.5 years and he will be able to leave for good. Do I hold my silence about the things I disagree with? I am afraid that they won't let me see him anymore if I speak my mind--I know they won't take it well. It is my honest opinion that they are mistreating him by taking away all priveleges indefinitely--he isn't allowed to play video games or watch movies or TV and isn't allowed to go anywhere. He's basically supposed to sit in the house doing nothing unless he's outside working, which it sounds like he has to do a lot.

Ok, this rant is officially over. Please, PLEASE send me some advice. I don't know what to do. Let me know what you'd do ideally and in reality.

I've decided not to edit this post for content or spelling because it has exhausted me. It's not complete--there is a lot more that I could say about it, but I'm hungry and upset.

Thanks. Love.

Bartending

2007-06-19T23:15:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm at it again.

The bar that I used to work in has been re-opened and I have been re-hired.

Sort of.

I walked out last July due to rubber paychecks and a boss with a habit. Among other things. Not long after I left, the bar and restaurant was shut down due to non-payment of state sales tax and the owner disappeared. In February or March it was purchased by some member of the community and renovated. The mice were eliminated and they cleaned the hell out of the place and opened in early May. I spoke with the bar manager (who was the manager when I worked there before) and offered to be "on-call." He gladly accepted and I worked my first real shift today. It felt good to be there. I saw a lot of regulars that I've missed and loved the feeling of the rediscovering of mixology.

Yummy margaritas!

I will work there very irregularly until I go back to school. Although school is looking a little farther away. I will probably go back when the class I started with are seniors. I miss those ladies...

High Up In The Eastern Rockies

2007-06-01T14:59:00.000-07:00

Pearl Street. Boulder, Colorado.

Pearl Street is an avenue that runs through the heart of Boulder. It is strictly pedestrian; no cars allowed on most of it. Boulder is really a beautiful town and I wish I had the time and frame of mind to really enjoy it. Unfortunately, most of my time spent there consisted of freezing my ass off in a warehouse or begging for change. My most memorable meal there was at a homeless shelter where, disgusted by the maggots in my salad, I decided to be hungry instead.

It was winter in 1994. I was 19 years old and had nothing but the clothes on my back and a crappy boyfriend who was all about the hustle. We stayed in Boulder for a couple of weeks, but when Tom had exhausted all the kind people we encountered, we had to go elsewhere. He had somehow hustled a car--a Datsun 510 (the first of many)--and we decided one day to head up Highway 119 into the mountains to see what we could find. We had heard about a town called Nederland, about 20 miles west of Boulder and thought it might be nice to see what was up there.

To the right of the reservoir you can see Highway 119 winding westward. At the end of the water you can see the tiny town of Nederland (Ned). We quickly found the Youth Hostel and sought refuge from the cold there. We were able to work for a room, courtesy of the guy that owned a bunch of buildings there, named Pete. We spent about a week there, helping Pete remodel a restaurant he was going to call the Restbite Mill. It may have been spelled Respite Mill--I can't remember.

Anyway, after about a week, we were asked to move on. We went over to the grocery store to beg some change for gas when we enountered a lady who asked us if we would be willing to work at her house for room and board. We agreed and she put a little gas in our car to get us up the hill to her house.

The place she took us is somewhat of an enigma. I've tried to Mapquest it and look it up on Google Earth, and it is completely different now than it was 13 years ago. The town is called Wondervu. No, I didn't spell it wrong. Check it out: Wondervu, Colorado

Anyway, when we were there, there was a cafe called the Wondervu Cafe and some kind of lodging. But that's about it. The lady's house was on a dirt road called Jennie Lane. It was a sty. She was a single mom of two kids, and later we found out that she was crazy as well as a drunk.

When we arrived, the lady (I can't remember her name so we'll call her Wonder) showed us to our room...it was a family room in her daylight basement so cluttered with crap that it was difficult to move around much less find an appropriate place to put a bed. There were about six or seven boxes of old Rolling Stone magazines. If I'd known then what I know now, I would have taken all those mags when we left. They were all in a pile of stuff she was going to throw out. Issues dated back into the early 1970s. However, as you'll find out in a later post, those magazines wouldn't have made it home with me anyway.

I think we only ended up staying there for about two weeks. Maybe three. Wonder turned out to be quite a wingnut. She kept yelling at us for the most random reasons. She got mad one night because I let her son take a bath. I never could figure that one out. Of course, hindsight is always 20/20, and I didn't know Tom then the way I know him now. It's absolutely plausible that he could have been doing something bad...

At least Tom had a job at a restaurant down in Ned. One evening, when Tom was leaving for work, Wonder started screaming at him for something (I don't know what), and he hollered some obscenities back at her so she told him not to come back. He told me that he would come back for me after work and we'd go somewhere.

And I was left there alone with her.

Eventually, I decided that I had to leave before he came back and I loaded everything I could onto my back, carefully taking our most important posessions (which were few) because I knew that I didn't want to come back.

And I started walking into the February night.

Mostly what I remember is being cold. I couldn't remember how far it is from Wondervu to Nederland, but I remember walking for a long time. When I googled it, it came up as 11 miles. It was the beginning of February and there was still feet of snow on the ground, and it was night time. The only human life between Jennie Lane and Ned consisted of a few farms scattered along the road.

And a restaurant called the Blue Danube.

After walking for hours along the darkest stretch of highway in existence, I arrived at the parking lot of The Blue Danube. There were two cars in the lot. To my delight, a man came out the door and saw me there. I asked him which way he was going and he said he was going down to Ned. He asked me if I needed a ride.

Did I need a ride!

His name was Joe and he was a cook getting off work from the restaurant. He was very nice and assured me that he was not going to hurt me. I was happy when I arrived in Ned unharmed.

That night we knocked on the door at the Hostel and were given a room to stay in with the promise that we'd have jobs and pay for our room. The next day we made our way back up the hill to Wonder's house to pick up the last of our things. Luckily for us, she wasn't there and her kids were gracious enough to let us in to get our stuff.

I got a job two days later at the Texaco station at the junction of Highways 72 and 119. A month later, our car dead on the side of 119, we hitchhiked into Boulder with my last Texaco paycheck and put a $100 downpayment on a 1968 Plymouth Satellite Stationwagon.

Although not the right color, this car looks very similar to the one we bought. Yes, the same make and model as the car that took us from Bellingham to San Francisco--just a few years older.

Upon arrival with the car, we packed it up with whatever Earthly belongings we had--a quilt, a few clothes, a few gifts we still had from Christmas, and the odd trinket here and there that we had picked up on our adventure thus far.

And with the sun nestling behind the Rocky Mountains, we would our way down Highway 119 toward Central City--a route we had only taken once before on a gambling adventure. From there we turned even further south on Central City Parkway toward I-70. Not long after dark, we turned east on I-70, heading for more adventure. Danger, hippies, gangsters, gutter punks and hillbillies.

Holy Breastfeeding

2007-05-23T17:27:00.001-07:00

Today I received a myspace friend request from a lady who runs a "Holistic Pregnancy Retreat" in Southern Spain called "Da A Luz." I accepted the request and got very excited at the prospect of having a purpose for going to Spain other than the regular tourism and being a Gaudi architechture whore. Then I began looking through this person's "friends" and found a woman with the above picture on her page. I took one look at it and said, "Holy breastfeeding! That looks like the Virgin Mary breastfeeding Baby Jesus!"

Indeed.

I wonder how much certain right-wing Christians would squirm upon looking at this lovely piece of art.

Yes, boys and girls, that's Holy Mary's breast, nourishing her child, just like God intended.

But who is God? If someone can introduce us, I would be honored.

Float Down

2007-05-21T09:21:00.000-07:00

My husband's band, Good Monkey, plays a song called "Float Down." The chorus says,

"Break through clean air into a kiss with you my dear oh yes."

I love that song. Really, you should go see the video for Float Down on youtube.

My husband is the small dark one wearing green, sometimes black, sometimes a hideous multi-colored blazer, playing guitar. At the end, he's the one rolling down the hill while he shreds on his guitar. Yum. After nine years, he still the sexiest thing since, well, peanut butter.

Sexy.

Oh, here, have this shot of him also. This was taken about two years ago at a show in which Blake Lewis, now of American Idol fame played also. I can't remember who opened for who.

And here's a shot of Blake from that same show. Both photos taken by me.

I don't know why the two photos are different sizes. I'm not as high tech as I'd like to think, I guess. Anyway, I don't watch a lot of television, but I saw Blake audition for AI back in February and have been watching ever since. I'm not close personal friends with him or anything, but we have mutual friends, and it's pretty exciting to see someone from the Pacific Northwest actively working his dream! GO BLAKE! He's in the finals! There are only two of them left, until Wednesday....

Since we're having fun with photos, here's a fun shot of one of my BFFs, Patricia, Saturday night at a Good Monkey show. Her soon-to-be husband is the drummer/lead singer of Good Monkey.

Yeah, she's a drrrrrrrrrrty grrl. She also was the lead singer in my former band, Juicebox. Oh, what the Hell, with all the life-story crap, why not do some fun stuff; here's a shot of Patz and myself:

And here's our band when we were still a band. This is Juicebox:

R-L: Patricia (vocals, keyboards), Aimee (bass, vocals), Erin (guitar, vocals), Iris (drums)

We aren't a band anymore, but it was fun while it lasted. Iris is going to have a baby in September! I'm very excited that I get to be there as a doula. I'm sure I'll be posting a birth story (with their permission) and photos when it happens. Stay tuned.

Well, that was fun. I'll go back to the doom and gloom of my never-ending story soon...

Hasta luego, paz y amor por todo.

We Are Light, We Are Darkness...

2007-05-18T17:10:00.000-07:00

Where was I...?

Oh yes, on Interstate 80 near Lovelock, Nevada...little red pick up truck...

After bailing out of a ride from SF in the back of a pick up I most certainly wasn't excited about getting into another one. However, we had been standing on the side of the highway for a couple of hours and I just wanted to get out of the middle of nowhere to a new nowhere.

So we took the ride.

Shit.

The two guys in the cab of this truck were some surly looking fellows, but my dad's a biker and surly men don't necessarily scare me. I figured that, since I was with my boyfriend I was relatively safe. That is, until we pulled off the freeway to use the bathroom and put more clothes on to fend off the coming nighttime freeze.

I think we were in Utah. I headed into the bathroom, which only had a toilet, sink, and mirror--not a multi-person restroom--and began changing my clothes. I heard a knock at the door and opened it to discover Tom needing to come in and use the toilet. When he finished and left, he didn't lock the door behind him, so next thing I know, one of the guys from the truck walked in as I was pulling my shirt on. He walked over to the toilet, which didn't bother me as I'm a fairly open person and if he's gotta pee, so be it. But then he started asking me questions--really inappropriate questions regarding my love life. Then he asked me,

"Are you a man or a woman?"

My hair stil hadn't grown back from shaving my head a few months earlier, but I was shocked to hear this question. Bewildered, I turned to face him and saw that he was not urinating; he was masturbating.

Gross.

Not that masturbation is a bad thing...I just don't want to be in the room with a stranger while he is doing it.

Even if he is giving my boyfriend and me a ride to Colorado.

Immediately I went out to the truck to discuss the situation with Tom. I explained the turn of events and quietly included the capper. Tom looked at me and said,

"Bullshit. You're making it up."

Try as I might, I couldn't convince him that this had really happened. And so, instead of leaving him right then and there, I chose to stay in the truck with him.

You'd think it would be easy for me to walk away. You'd think that he would believe his girlfriend (who had never lied to him before). You'd think, heading into the Rocky Mountains at night in the back of a truck was a bad idea. Speaking for myself, if I had another companion or if I had a rich daddy at home who would buy me a bus ticket, I would have left...maybe. But I didn't have either of those things. If I had left it would have been me alone on the side of the freeway trying to get back home. I was brave enough to hitchhike the 90 miles between home and the big city nearest to me, but not from the middle of Utah (?) all the way back to my little corner of the Pacific Northwest.

Speaking for Tom, there was one little reason that he wanted to stay with this ride through the freezing cold night. It wasn't that they were going all the way to Colorado Springs. It wasn't that it would have been more difficult to get a ride from where we were. It had to do with the guys who were driving the little red pick-up truck. It had to do with the shoe box they had stashed in the dashboard.

They had about two pounds of speed.

With dusk fallen and dark quickly taking over the thin winter light in Utah (?), we cuddled up in the back of the truck and tried to stay warm as we traveled into the night. A couple of hours into this leg of the trip, I awoke from a frigid nap as I overheard Tom talking to the guys in the cab. Not long after that the truck pulled over and Tom explained to me that he was going to get into the cab to warm up and that I could do the same after a while. I had very mixed feelings about this. Firstly, I was jealous that Tom would be the first one to get warm; I can't even begin to explain how cold it was in the back of that truck. There was snow falling from an angry sky and a 60-70 mph wind blowing all around me.

Let me just take a side note to try and remember what all I was wearing.

2 pairs of wool socks
combat boots
long johns
jeans
3 shirts
a wool hat
a very large trench-style poly-fill insulated coat
2 blankets wrapped around me

And I was still FREEZING. Not just uncomfortably cold. I thought I was going to die. It was really that cold.

Ultimately I decided that I would ride very briefly in the cab of the truck. Just long enough to get warm and then I would get in the back and cuddle with Tom. However, I wasn't given the opportunity to get in the cab for quite a while because, little did I know at the time, they were snorting rails of speed and I was the furthest thought from anyone's mind.

This next section is quite fuzzy for me. I can't remember the exact order of events but I will choose an order and we'll pretend that's the way it happened.

Somewhere in Wyoming I peeked out of my little blanket cave to discover that we had been caught in a blizzard. I couldn't see more than ten feet in any direction but I did notice that we were very slowly going around a road block. Upon inquiry, I discovered that the mountain pass road was closed due to weather, but the guys had decided to go around the road block because they didn't think it was that bad. Tom was again in the cab of the truck and had been the one to convince the driver to go around the road block. I was pretty afraid when I saw nothing but the ethereal whiteness of a blizzard at night so I hunkered down into the perceived safety of my blankets and prayed to goodness that I would make it out alive. It did little to boost my hope.

Especially when I felt the truck spinning round and round.

I popped my head out again to see what was going on but were it not for the feeling of going round and round, I never would have known that we were spinning out of control.

Somewhere in their speed-induced apathy for what was happening, the driver managed to get us going on the road again. Luckily much of the surrounding terrain was pastureland so, from what I could tell, we went off road onto a relatively flat, open piece of land and then found the road again. What was truly a miracle was that, although visibility was almost zero, the driver found a cafe that we could stop at and wait out the storm.

We entered the flourescent-lighted oasis of a greasy spoon, spooked and thankful to be alive. We ordered coffees and sat back, warming up, waiting for the visibility to clear up and looked on a map for an alternate route.

I blocked out most of the rest of our trip with these guys. I don't remember much of what happened after that. I know that we arrived in Fort Collins, Colorado very early the next morning. I was very tired and hungry and Tom was high on speed. An elderly couple saw us and the state we were in and bought us some breakfast, then pointed us in the direction of the nearest Salvation Army. Upon arrival there, we were forced to pray to their God before they would offer us any services. After prayer they fed us some greasy food and gave us cots to sleep on for a couple of hours. Tom didn't eat or sleep. I did both in massive quantities.

Following a rest at the SA, we hitched to the nearest bus station to bum change and ride the bus to Boulder, where we were supposedly going to meet up with some friends for a lively time of eating, drinking, and smoking pot. Little did I realize, Tom didn't have any friends. We arrived at Penny Lane, a coffee shop on Pearl Street in Boulder, right down the street from the house where Mork and Mindy was filmed in the 70s and 80s. There, we encountered some hippies that were nice enough to take us to their house and feed us. We were allowed to spend one night there, and then I had my first experience with something that would become a theme with almost everywhere I went with Tom after that...

Our hosts told me that I was welcome to come back, but Tom was not.

More later........

Rest In Peace

2007-05-17T18:19:00.000-07:00

Although it's been years since I last spoke with her and even longer since we were tight, it's very hard to know that she's dead.

I met her in 1992 on the south side of town at a coffee shop in summer. We were fast friends. She was a couple of years younger than me but she had an apartment with her boyfriend where we would hang out and do a lot of things we probably shouldn't have. But we had fun.

I hadn't seen her in a few years when I ran into her at a bar that no longer exists. She looked like Hell but she was in good spirits.

Then, a couple of weeks ago I randomly bought a newspaper and read about three people missing in the Bay. One of them was 31 year old Bonnie Robinson. Today I learned that someone found her body on a beach on one of the islands in our beautiful Sound.

Many years ago, when a mutual friend of mine and Bonnie's was hit by a train and killed in Amsterdam, Someone gave me the story about dragonflies. When they're first born, they live in the water, hanging out with their friends having a good time. Then they transform in to flying creatures and they emerge into the air where they flit about. They want to go back down into the water to tell all their friends what it's like out there in the big world of oxygen but they are no longer accustomed to water and can't get back to their friends. Maybe that's what it's like when we die. Maybe we just transform into another kind of being and can't come back to tell us what it's like.

Rest In Peace, Bonnie. May the afterlife hold better things for you than this world did.

Eye Candy?

2007-05-17T08:50:00.000-07:00

Here are some of my photos for your viewing pleasure. They are all from 35mm film. When I had the film developed I had the developy-type people put all the images on a CD for me so that I could upload them easily to e-mails and blogs and such without having to scan them all in. They look pretty grainy to me in digital format, but I'm hoping that they won't be so grainy when I upload them. I wasn't able to label them each individually, so I will have to label them from top to bottom in a list right here:

(1) Silhouetted Twins
(2) Stealth Mallard
(3) Hubby, Daughter, and Doggie on the Dock at Dusk
(4) Light Through Fingers
(5) Lily Pad Reflection
(6) Padden Creek
(7) As The Sun Sets

Let me know what you think.

By the way, I'm aware of the convenience of digital cameras, but I still prefer 35mm prints so I am having an internal battle. I already have so many cameras that Hubby will probably have a fit if I get another, so for now I am sticking with my super-old Canon digi and my 35mm cameras (I have two that function and three more that need work done on them...anyone wanna buy one for a project?!). All of these photos were taken with my 35mm Nikon. Gawd I love that camera...thanks daddy!

The Haight, Fall/Winter 1993 and beyond...

2007-05-14T10:54:00.000-07:00

You asked for it, so here it is...

Although it's difficult to put myself back in those days of lover, self, and drug abuse as I sit here watching the hummingbirds out my livingroom window as they gobble up and fight over the hummingbird soup I have made and placed out for them, I suppose I'll continue right where I left off. Crack smoking and drug dealing, right?

Yes, so during our last couple of days in Bellingham, I paid a guy $150 for the biggest car in the world: a 1975 Plymouth Satellite Station Wagon. I tried to find images of this impressive piece of steel on Google, but I don't think there is a camera large enough to capture the entire car on film. Yeah, eight hippies slept in that car on the Golden Gate Panhandle...(semi) comfortably.

I was sort of afraid to drive this car. It was the biggest thing I'd ever seen. Bigger than any of my dad's trucks, or my mother's '75 Plymouth Cordova, which I stole when I was 15 and cruised around downtown with my friend and neighbor, Darla.

I didn't drive it much, leaving that to my drug-loving soon-to-be fiancee, which, quite frankly, scared me as much as just driving the damn thing myself. Although, he made it plenty clear that he was in control. Even though the car was legally mine, he would be the one to drive it. That was my first inkling of the abuse that I would put up with for the next four and a half years.

Not long after we acquired the car we headed down I-5 toward the Bay Area. Quickly, we arrived on Haight Street, mecca for hippies everywhere. I was absolutely enamoured. Little did I realize, the "kids" that were hanging out there were doing far more than smoking pot in the trees of Golden Gate Park and dancing to fun music. Almost all of them were doing coke, ecstacy, and/or heroin, which are all drugs that, at 33 years old, I can still say I've never done. They were fighting and drugging, ripping people off and going to jail on a regular basis. I met a lot of people there who I would be surprised to find alive today.

We spent two months there. Most of the time we spent hanging out in either Golden Gate or Buena Vista Park or at a coffee shop called The Coffee Zone, and since we didn't know anyone who actually lived in San Francisco, we slept in our car, parked along side Buena Vista Park. Sometimes we went in on motel rooms with other people, which involved one person going to the office to rent the room, saying that they were the only one who was staying there while the rest of us hid in the bushes or ducked in cars. This ensured that the maximum number of people could sleep there for the least amount of money.

We spent a couple of days in a particular motel near Van Ness with a guy who was rumored to be the famed "Cosmic Charlie" described in a Grateful Dead song. As I knew him, however, he was just another coke addict whose preferred vehicle for dosage was a hypodermic needle. He had a routine: he would rent the room (because he had the ID and the money) and let us in. Then he would go into the bathroom for about 45 minutes where he would shower and fix up. When finally he emerged, he would wander around the room checking any and all possible places that wire taps could have been placed in the room: the telephone receiver, the hem of the curtain, between the mattresses, under the carpet. It was an odd experience. During this time we were also spending our days and nights with a heroin junkie called Rabbit (this later cracked me up when the movie 8 Mile came out and Eminem's nickname was Rabbit). The first night we stayed in the motel room with Charlie and Rabbit, I experienced for the first time what it's like for a junkie of any measure to cop and try to be patient while he is en route to the place where he will fix up. Charlie was the first to cop, since he was the driver, and he had very specific intructions about what to say if we were confronted by a police officer. After he returned, we drove to a different area where he gave Rabbit 10 minutes to find his own drugs before he would leave without him. Once we all were back in the car, Charlie drove us to the motel. Rabbit didn't have any kind of routine for getting high. He just found a comfortable place to sit while he cooked up his dope. That first night, however, the dope he bought was not a good batch and wouldn't cook up right. Try as he might, he couldn't get the black tar to cook down to a consistency that would get him sufficiently high. Eventually, he got some liquid drawn up in the syringe and when he couldn't get a vein up, plunged in where he thought he might hit one. He missed. He freaked out, yelling and screaming about not being able to nod off. Finally, Tom suggested that they smoke it, which was NOT what Rabbit wanted to do, but it was better than nothing. Although offered, I declined. I didn't want to even try to deal with that monkey on my back. I crawled between the sheets of the bed and slept while they sat up and smoked cigarettes, pot, and heroin.

We also traveled to Auburn, east of Sacramento, where Tom's mom and step-dad lived. Since we were in that area over Christmastime, we spent Christmas at Tom's parents' house with me getting to know them and Tom avoiding them, frequenting the barn to smoke pot and cigarettes. It was on Christmas Eve that he asked me to marry him.

I said yes.

Not long after returning to San Francisco from Auburn, Tom revealed his liking for crack cocaine. We were walking up and down Haight Street late at night, asking drunken stragglers for spare change when a man poked his head around the corner and offered us a glass pipe. Tom eagerly indulged while I, skeptic that I am, politely declined. We would have remained there until the break of dawn had I not insisted that I was tired and urged Tom back toward our car, now broken down in a parking place on the east side of Buena Vista Park.

I don't really want to discuss publicly the things we were doing there because I don't know who reads this blog and there are definitely some legal ramifications if the wrong person stumbled across these words and learned my name or the names of anyone else involved. I'm content to leave it in my past for the most part, but I am happy to disclose to people I know. If you're one of them and you're interested, give me a call and we'll talk. Otherwise, suffice it to say that we avoided the police as much as possible and ended up losing all of our money at one point and had to come up with an alternate plan.

The alternate plan became a whirlwind of traveling to new places with a person who was basically a danger and bad luck magnet.

We left San Francisco on a cold January evening, heading east on I-80 to Boulder, Colorado in the back of a pick-up truck. I had hitchhiked quite a bit at this point, but nothing compared to this. Although wrapped up in every article of clothing and every blanket we owned, cuddled together in the back of this pick-up, we were freezing cold and, although the truck was heading all the way to Boulder, we opted to get out at a tiny convenience stop near Lovelock, Nevada. We got out of the truck and walked toward the convenience store in the early morning winter desert light.

Upon entering the store, we were regarded as we looked...strangers in a strange land. Tom had a head full of unruly dreadlocks and my head was shaved from ridding myself of my own dreadlocks. We explained what we were doing and why we were there and then asked if we could do some work for a bed in the motel attached to the store and a bite to eat. We were offered a bed for a few hours (it was very early morning and we wanted to be back on the road by early afternoon anyway), some coffee, and some convenience store microwaved food in exchange for help cleaning trash out of the parking lot. So we slept for a few hours and walked out into the noon sunshine to begin our task.

About 2 p.m. we walked out onto the freeway and put our thumbs out. As the cars whizzed past we noticed that they were laughing at us but we figured it was just because we were a couple of hippies in redneckland. Then we looked at the sign we were standing underneath; it read, "PRISON AREA: DO NOT PICK UP HITCHHIKERS."

About this time a red pick up truck stopped to pick us up.

To be continued...

It's Officially Official (Sort of)

2007-05-14T10:01:00.000-07:00

Well, I still haven't received my business license, but I did receive my small business tax guide from the Department of Revenue. Upon receipt of this item I am assuming that my license has been approved and I will receive it some time this week. I have not, however, heard again from the Mother Baby Center, which makes me a little nervous. I e-mailed my resume to the director last week along with my business license application receipt, and I just called and left a message this morning, so hopefully I will hear back soon!

Hmmm, now I'm curious to see if anything will come up if I google Shuksan Doula Services. Can anyone help me develop a website?

2007-05-10T15:03:00.000-07:00

Hooray for sunshine!

Today I spent several hours hanging out with my dad. It was awesome. I have the bestest poppa ever. We built a 40' X 40' raised box bed in his garden for his strawberry plants (Correction inserted here on 5/14...the strawberry bed is NOT 40' X 40'. Rather, it is 10' X 10'. Much smaller...My dad is NOT a strawberry farmer. Not in the way that he would need to hire rowdy preteens during the summer to come and pick his berries for market.). I wish I had photos, but my dad's digi camera took a dump. I'm hoping it's batteries.

Tomorrow I'm going to help him cut a cement slab (he's a cement mason...retired but still doing the odd job here and there), then we're going to go back out to his place and plant the strawberries.

Fun fun fun!

Another step...

2007-05-07T14:06:00.000-07:00

I just finished my master business license application and will know within the next 24 hours if it is approved, and I will have my license within 14 days!

I'm very excited!

Official business inquiries can go to: shuksan.doula.services@gmail.com

Projects

2007-05-07T09:22:00.000-07:00

I am so excited about this project that I've been working on. It's for a friend, but it's a surprise for her, so I'm not naming any names. It's an afghan, and will be four rows wider than it is now when it's finished. I got inspired to post this pic when I visited the Big Round Room that is Janet's Yurt and saw her post about a knitted project she is working on. So, here it is. I'm very excited.

And, if no one has anything to say about it, I think I'm going with

Shuksan Doula Services

Shuksan means "roaring mountain" in the Native Skagit tongue, and is also my youngest son's middle name. I love it.

Pacific Doula Services

2007-05-05T08:53:00.001-07:00

Whaddya think of that one?

Doulaing

2007-05-03T23:32:00.000-07:00

Well, I received the phone call today from the doula-hiring lady at the Mother Baby Center today and I am so excited! I have two tasks to complete before my interview:

1. Get a business license.

2. Write up a birth resume.

So now I have to come up with a name for my doula service. I was thinking about calling my business

Roots Down Doula Services

I would love to have some input on that one. Ask yourself, if I were searching for a doula, would this name grab my attention? Would it feel safe? What kinds of images does this business name evoke? Is it professional sounding?

Does it sound too hippy (or, as Louisa would put it, "woo woo")?

Please, please comment. Whomever you are that stumbles across the ground of my oh so earthly blog, please comment. Tell me what you think!

Doula for Hire

2007-05-02T16:43:00.000-07:00

Exciting things are afoot!

As I was looking into doula certification through DONA and PALS, I decided to find out if the Mother Baby Center still hires doulas for referral. Well, they do, and they need doulas! Apparently they only have two that are available and they have been very busy.

I am expecting a phone call tomorrow from the lady that does the hiring for this government funded position!

Wish me luck!

Rant #2

2007-05-02T10:45:00.000-07:00

Let me quote an e-mail/myspace bulletin that I have been seeing:

NO GAS...On May 15th 2007
Body: Don't pump gas on may 15th
Body: ...in April 1997, there was a "gas out" conducted nationwide in protest of gas prices. Gasoline prices dropped 30 cents a gallon overnight.

On May 15th 2007, all internet users are to not go to a gas station in protest of high gas prices. Gas is now over $3.00 a gallon in most places.

There are 73,000,000+ American members currently on the internet network, and the average car takes about 30 to 50 dollars to fill up.

If all users did not go to the pump on the 15th, it would take
$2,292,000,000.00 (that's almost 3 BILLION) out of the oil companys pockets for just one day, so please do not go to the gas station on May 15th and lets try to put a dent in the Middle Eastern oil industry for at least one day.

If you agree (which I cant see why you wouldnt) resend this to all your contact list. With it saying, ''Don't pump gas on May 15th"

Now let me quote my response the first time I read this (this year):

I love love love the person from whom I received this bulletin.

BUT, I have to let you all know that there is some false information in this. The supposed "gas out" did NOT result in gas prices 30 cents lower over night. It was a valiant attempt, but too many people are dependent on their cars, and so they either ignored the boycott altogether or gassed up the day before, which does nothing for the protest of rising gas prices.

Honestly, folks, the only way to deal with this is to ride your bike or use public transportation as much as possible, or buy a hybrid, or convert your diesel into biodiesel.

Also, it's very important to realize that it's not the Middle East that is causing high gas prices...it's the greediness of big oil American CEOs and the American public's dependence on petroleum products.

By all means, though, don't buy gas on May 15; just try to take it another step further!

Peace out home chickens,
Aimee

I find it irritating and irresponsible that people actually think that a one-day weekend warrior protest of high gas prices is going to make a difference.

WAKE UP PEOPLE!!!

We keep giving them money day in and day out...one fucking day is NOT going to make a difference in their million dollar paychecks.

As far as the assumption about the middle east banking off of oil prices, here's the proof in the puddin'

Did anyone happen to notice that during elections in November that gas priced went down? That was the good ol' GOP begging for your vote. Notice that gas prices went back up not long after the election?

Ok, enough ranting for one day...gotta clean my house!

Vent: a fissure in the earth's crust (or in the surface of some other planet) through which molten lava and gases erupt

2007-05-02T10:16:00.000-07:00

Does it count as a "rant" when it involves one's spouse?

Cinco de mayo is this Saturday; the biggest celebration of Mexican Independence this side of the Mexican border.

Literally.

They don't celebrate cinco de mayo in Mexico.

However, this is one of our favorite "holidays" as it is the greatest opportunity to eat some of our favorite foods, drink light, yellow, fizzy beer and good tequila. It is a tradition here at Casa de los Locos. We have a gathering almost every year; last year there were close to 40 people in and out of our small home.

We made last minute plans about a month ago regarding this year's fiesta and began calling people to invite them over. I think there are approximately 15 people invited, not including children.

Twist #1: I have been searching for work to supplement our family income to no avail, and I have been asked to cover four shifts this week at a restaurant I worked for briefly last fall. One of them is on Saturday, scheduled from 10am to 8pm, likely to get out around 6 or before. Our housemate (living downstairs in the daylight basement apartment), a.k.a. partner in crime, also works that day (it's actually the restaurant that she manages that I am working for that day), scheduled to be home around 2:30. This leaves much of the preparation on hubby's shoulders, which previously he agreed to.

Twist #2: Two of our children have soccer games that day. Luckily, they are both in the morning, and will be done by 11:30.

Frustration: Hubby's parents returned this past weekend from a 6-month long vacation and evidently, hubby made plans with them to go to their house for lunch on Saturday.

Problem: Hubby's parents live 25-30 minutes north of where we live, adding an hour on to this lunch date. Add another hour and a half for lunch and catching up, hubby isn't getting home until 2pm, giving him only an hour or so to prepare for the arrival of guests.

I have offered solutions to this dilemma, such as going to lunch on Thursday, Friday, or Sunday; going to dinner on Thursday, etcetera. However, hubby is hell-bent on having lunch with them on Saturday, the most inconvenient day he couls possibly plan for.

Possible outcome #1: Hubby has parents meet him at a park in town for said lunch date and is home by 1 or so and everything goes smoothly (although I really doubt that he will pay close attention to time and still not get home until 2 at the earliest).

Possible outcome #2: Hubby decides that I am right (because I am, right? LOL) and makes other plans to hang out with the units.

Possible outcome #3: Hubby decides that he is too pissed off and inconvenienced to alter his plans with the units and tell us to go to hell, causing us to call off our celebration. This is the worst possible outcome. It is unacceptable to me and we may end up in divorce court (kidding), but to call off a gathering that we planned at least a month ago in lieu of afterthought plans he made with his parental units may send me off the deep end and he may be sleeping on the couch until he makes it up to me. Let's see...a two week vacation in Mexico seems appropriate.

Thoughts, anyone? Am I irrational? I do have tendencies toward irrational...

Can I Just...

2007-05-01T18:02:00.000-07:00

Vent for a second...?

I don't feel well. I spent the whole day at the freaking laundromat to deliver heaps of filthy laundry to a divine place of cleanliness. After all, cleanliness is next to goddessliness, right?

Now my beautiful, brazen, boisterous ten-year-old daughter is slamming things around and uttering disgusted and delinquent utterances because I told her that I didn't feel like coming to her room right this minute to help her shove her dresser back two inches toward the wall.

Oh the humanity.

A mother's work is NEVER done!

2007-05-01T15:09:00.000-07:00

This is what Ruby decided to do to my bed while I was at the laundromat enduring judgment from another laundromatron for having too much laundry and (using all the damn washers and all the damn dryers).

James and I had this nice squooshy foam pad on our extra firm mattress, but not any more. Apparently Ruby didn't approve of our comfort and chose to shred it into pieces.

The upside: I've been wanting to upgrade it.

The downside: I had to punish my dog. She's so sensitive, too. As soon as she saw me walking back toward the bedroom, she began cowering and shaking. I think she was abused by the guy that had her before the Alternative Humane Society. Well, I know she was mistreated, but I don't know if he beat her or anything. I spanked her for the first time today. Just a swat on the butt while showing her the foamy pieces and telling her, "NO!" Then she crammed herself under the bed and hid there until I called her out (it took a few times) and then I loved on her. I felt really bad for punishing her, but she's been chewing on things lately, other than her chewing toys, and it's got to stop.

In other sad news today, I read in the local news paper that a lady who was a good friend many years ago has disappeared with two guys out on the bay. Apparently they were partying on Saturday night and decided to take a canoe out late Saturday night/early Sunday morning. Canoeing on the bay is insane anytime, not just at night after partying. Of course, I'm assuming that they were partying, because that's what she loved to do.

This is actually the third person that I've known who has disappeared on the bay under very similar circumstances. The other two disappeared about 10 years ago (maybe it's been 12) after stealing a little rowboat and going out for a late night partying excursion.

May they all rest in peace.

Gross Negligence (in my humble opinion)

2007-04-30T10:09:00.000-07:00

One of my very best friends recently decided she didn't want anymore children and made the decision to have a tubal ligation. I should probably throw in there that following each of her three boys she had made the decision not to have anymore children, but she, like myself, proved herself to be completely inept at practicing effective birth control. And so, now that she is turning 30, she has decided that she's excited that all of her children will be in school full-time in September and, although she loves babies and often sighs with baby lusting (thanks for a new term, Niki!), she absolutely does NOT want to revert to diaper changing and all-night feedings (her oldest is starting middle school and will be turning 12 in September, her youngest is currently in kindergarten). If ever there was a person with zero contraceptive luck, it would be my dear friend. She's gotten pregnant on oral contraceptives and Depo-provera. Three times she has become pregnant while using some form of birth control.

And so, she called her doctor to talk about sterilization.

Her surgery was set for Friday, April 27. She went in and endured a seamless operation that would permanently change the course of childbearing, woke up to her loving husband and came home to a peaceful house (one of her boys was with me and the other two were with their grandparents).

Friday night she hardly slept a wink.

By Saturday morning, her pain was so bad that, although she had taken two of the Darvocet prescribed by her surgeon, she was unable to rest and was feeling extremely dizzy because she was literally high on pain medication that did nothing for her pain. Her husband began searching for the non-existent emergency instructions (I feel that I should interject that she gave birth to three boys at home with no pain meds at all--and one of them was 11 pounds--so, she's no wuss when it comes to pain) and found only a piece of paper listing two phone numbers. One for the office where the surgeon works, and the other for another office. There was no "after-hours" number and no instructions for what to do in any kind of abnormal situation. Nothing that detailled what was expected during recovery, or signs of problems that would indicate an emergency room visit. All they were given when they left was a precscription for Darvocet (100 mg) because, "it is the only pain med that doesn't make you as dizzy or nauseous as the other ones."

So her husband called the office number only to get an answering service that told him that he had dialed the wrong number and there was nothing that could be done for them via that number (he checked with the person on the phone to make sure he dialed right, he was just given the wrong number). So he called the other number and got another answering service that told him that, since the surgeon who performed my friend's operation was the doctor on call (for the hospital, I think) at the moment, she was not available to write out a script for a different pain medication. The nurse told her to take two more Darvocet (following the two already ingested) and four Ibuprofen (?????????). He (sort of) calmly explained that the Darvocet were making her sick and not doing anything for the pain, and so the lady told him that they'd have to go to the emergency room.

More money spent, more time wasted while this post-op lady is in excrutiating pain.

But, there was nothing else they could do.

After a while in the waiting room, my friend's father-in-law went to find out what was taking so long. He was told that they were waiting for a bed. He began yelling at the receptionist, telling her that she didn't need a fucking bed, she needed a goddamned prescription for something that would help her to not be in so much fucking pain. FUCK!

But he was told that they would still have to wait.

So, when they finally got my friend settled into a bed, two hours later, a nurse walked in with a glorious pain pill for our dear, pain-riddled heroine. However, the nurse looked at her and said, "I can't believe no one's started an IV on you yet."

And walked out of the room, pain pill still in hand.

About 45 minutes later, another nurse walked in holding a pain pill. This nurse also noticed that no IV had been started. And also walked away with the golden, shining prize in hand.

Finally, over an hour after she was assigned to a bed, someone came in with the proper machinery to start an IV on my dear friend's arm. As the IV was being placed, something went awry and sent intense shooting pains down the patient's arm, making her feel as though someone had just sawed her arm off with a butterknife. She thought a nerve had been knicked, but wasn't entirely sure what had happened. Great, more pain, and still no pain meds.

With the IV in place, my friend was finally given a high dose of pain medication and began to feel a little more comfortable.

Then the bullshit continued...

When the doc came in to see her, he decided that she needed a cat scan because sometimes people get bowel obstructions following general anesthesia. Um, excuse me, doc, but I believe he only thing this lady needs is her own bed and some FUCKING REST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But she had to endure a cat scan anyway. Of course, nothing was found, so she was wheeled back to her bed.

Not long afterword, the nurse came back to take out the IV. When the bandage holding the IV in place was taken off, it tore about three layers of skin off, leaving a nasty abrasion on her arm. When the doc came in to talk with her one last time, he noticed the botched landscape of her arm left by the extra-sticky IV bandage and started talking about more tests to make sure she's producing enough of this and enough of that because her skin looked really bad. So it was explained to the doc that it was a result of the IV bandage and that they'd be going now. Just give them the goddmaned discharge papers and a fucking script for something that will actually work without making her sick. Are we displaying the model of drug-seeking behavior at this point? Well, what the fuck would you do? No, she doesn't have an addiction to pills.

But, she did have a very invasive, MAJOR FUCKING SURGERY, umm, like, yesterday. Um, ouch, she hurts like hell, as anyone freshly post-op most likely would, and the pain pills prescribed by the surgeon are not killing the pain, but they are making her quite sick. Shall we explain it again? One more time so you can understand?

Finally she was sent home with a prescription for vicodin. Finally, she got some sleep.

I went to see my friend last night. When I walked in she was getting a gentle massage from her mom, who is a massage student. So I cleaned up their kitchen while they were finishing that, and then sat down with her for a while, listening to her story, trying not to get exceedingly angry. Then I brushed her hair and braided it, watched part of a movie, let her know to call me anytime (still mean it, lady!), made sure she was comfy and headed home.

It's really quite amazing, actually. Her third son was my first doula experience, and now I am with her for the cessation of her reproductive years. Damn, I love that woman. I know we'll be close friends for the rest of our lives.

Why I Blog...

2007-04-28T08:12:00.000-07:00

Now that I've read a few other blogs in which someone has been "tagged," I have a better understanding of this high-tech game so like a physical game I loved as a child. So here is my attempt at being "it."

As I sit here in this semi-uncomfortable, squeaky chair in my living room, drinking coffee and trying to block out the background noise of "Bob the Builder" and my grumpy nephew, I ask myself,

"Why do I blog? I don't know that I am a particularly good writer, or that I really have much to say that is interesting to other people." I'm not very consistent with it--sometimes I go almost a month without posting; and sometimes I have two or three in a day.

The first time I ever heard anything about a "blog," it was in regards to Rosie O'Donnell. She had said something on her blog that people found offensive, and I remember thinking, "What the Hell is a blog?" I wish I could remember how long ago this was.

The point is, I didn't know what a blog was for quite some time after I first heard the term.

Then I found myspace.

Around that time someone told me that "blog" is simply a shortened way of saying "web log," which is an online journal of sorts. And so I wrote my first blog on my myspace page, which you can read if you wish at www.myspace.com/punkrokgrrl
Some of it is interesting; some of it would only make sense to someone who thinks the way I do. A lot of it is just plain silly.

Then I met Louisa and Niki. They are two of the blogginist people I've ever met. Except, of course, for my niece, who is constantly posting her poetry on her myspace blog. She's really quite good. If you're interested, e-mail me and I'll link you to her poetry.

Anyway, I finally asked Louisa how to create a blog, and >woohoo< she told me how (although she still hasn't linked me, heeheheheee). I decided to use my blog to chronicle my journey into the midwifery profession, which should, in theory, be pretty hefty. Lots of rants, and maybe a story about what has drawn me to this world of natural childbirth and women's health. Well, I began the story, and posted three times about it, but kind of left it off to pursue more pressing issues such as my depression, the death of my beloved Golden Lab and the subsequent meeting of our newest family member, Ruby, who is Yellow Lab, Pointer, and Greyhound. Of course, there are other things as well, and things that I haven't even touched yet. I contain a lot of unsaid frustration. There are things brewing inside me that I am too chicken to utter out loud...or even write in a blog.

Because the wrong person might hear it or read it.

I'm chickenshit.

BUT.

I also want to use my blog to share my photography. I am actually quite proud of some of the pictures I've taken, and even done a few shows here in my quaint little hometown next to the sea. I've traveled a lot and been in some awesome places where the photo ops are endless. My husband is actually wanting to finally buy me that $800-1400 digital camera because he knows it would cut down on the film and developing costs. I would imagine I average four or five rolls of film a month. Figure about $4 for the roll of film, and $10 for developing...14 x 5 = 70. That's $70 per month; 70 x 12 = 840. That's $840 a year, over the ten years that I've been taking pictures, equalling about $8,400 that I've spent on film and developing.

The funny thing is, I've just recently learned to properly use my camera.

I guess in many ways I am still figuring out why it is that I blog, and whether or not I am going to be consistent with it. I'm pretty self-concious and needy at times, and I always feel the need to know that people are reading what I am writing...I wish there was a way to see how many people read my blog, but I don't know how that works, or even if it's possible to do it. Then again, it's nice to have this space where I can write down what's on my mind, even if no one's listening.

I would also like to figure out how to "search" for other, like-minded bloggers. Anyone wanna help me on that one?

Breastfeeding...

2007-04-27T22:14:00.000-07:00

Following my visit to Niki's Place and Sage Femme's, I decided to post this story that a friend of mine wrote and had published in the online version of Mothering magazine.

A Short History of My Breastfeeding Career

By Deborah Craig

We fell in love with each other over breastfeeding, my daughter, Makela, and I. It happened during all the long hours we spent staring deep into each other’s eyes during feeding time; me, imagining how her life would unfold, she, memorizing the details of my face. If I close my eyes I can still see her smiling while attached to my breast, warm milk rolling down the side of her face, tickling her cheeks. For her my breasts meant comfort. Nursing calmed her fears, healed the hurt and soothed her to sleep. As she got older she gave no signs whatsoever to indicate that she was ready to give up her beloved ‘nursies.” Instead, she gave my breasts personalities, called them her babies and wanted to wrap them in blankets and kiss them each good-night. I breastfed her for three years, giving it up reluctantly when she started pre-school.

And then along came my son. Right from the start Mario was a vigorous nurser who pulled and tugged and squirmed. With one breast in his mouth he would pound his small fists into the other breast. And, later, nursing as a toddler, her too gave them personalities. He named my breasts Jo-Jo and Jo-Jo 2, insisting that they were boys, knights in shining armor, Power Rangers, Ninja Turtles. He would ask, ”Can Boo-boos ride a bike? Can they juggle, can they do a somersault?” Unlike my daughter, he slowly began to lose interest in breastfeeding too busy to stop his constant motion. I was sad to know my breastfeeding days were coming to an end.

But before my milk was completely gone, my nephew was born. After a long labor and an unexpected C-section my sister was left exhausted and emotional. Her son lost weight and the lactation consultants all had their various theories confusing us all. Finally mother and baby went home to figure it out themselves. I knew how I could help. I would come over in the afternoons, give my sister a chance to nap while Shamus and I settled into the big chair for our own special bonding. Breastfeeding my nephew seemed natural and he took right to it. It made it easier to baby-sit him when my sister returned to work and my son had no problem sharing with his cousin.

My milk is gone now and when I see a new mother nursing her baby I feel something close to sadness, close to longing, close to a fond recollection. My 4-year old son still doesn’t miss an opportunity to ask “What are Boo-Boos doing?,” still insisting they are boys. When I ask him “Where did all the milk go?” he answers, “Three babies drank it all. Me and Mimi and Shay-Shay.”

Seemingly

2007-04-27T20:41:00.000-07:00

I haven't been updating...too many things on my mind. Look out, I feel a long one coming on.

I should begin by saying that my daughter had a wonderful time during her spring break and made it home safely to the loving arms of her family. She had great stories to tell and bought us all gifts with the money that was given to her (thanks, Bree. i heart u). She was very thoughtful and seemed so much more grown up when she came home. She seemed to have more confidence and this warm glow that really made me realize that she is actually growing up (thanks again, Bree. i double heart u). It seems like yesterday that she was a tiny baby, helpless and so needy. She smelled so good. I read a great book recently (called Moon Women--ladies should read it!), and a character in it claims that her absolute favorite smell is a newborn baby's head. I'd say i have to agree with that. There's really nothing quite like it.

All of my children are amazing me lately.

Zack has been officially enrolled at Job Core for four weeks and seems to be doing well. When we visited him last weekend he was happy and adjusting well. I think he's getting just enough freedom to whet his appetite, but with just enough structure that he has to hold himself accountable. This just may be the thing that turns him around. Kisses, Zack, I love you so much!

My baby baby is also growing up very quickly. He's so helpful and fresh every day. It seems like he's always optimistic and wants to help in any way he can. And he's so handsome. I trimed his mowhawk and bleached his hair, so his beautiful eyes are really standing out. Oh my.

I, myself am very torn.

On one hand, I'm missing school. I read semi-regular posts from the ladies of the class I just left and am missing them and the program quite a lot. I know midwifery is my path and I will be a midwife some day, but it seems like there are a lot of obstacles to my success. The latest thing is home-buying. If I go back to school in January, which is the plan now, then we'll have to put off buying a house until I'm finished with school and am employed. If I put school off even just one more year and work, we could buy a house now.

The housing market is so unstable around here. Four years ago, a person could buy a three bedroom house for $130k...$1000--1100 per month mortgage including taxes and insurance. Now, that same house goes for $230--250k with a $1500--1600 per month mortgage. We actually have friends that bought their house three years ago and are selling it for $100k more now. But I've heard that the market is supposed to be coming down, which would make sense because the average Joe arouns here doesn't make enough money to be buying houses at those prices. However, I've been hearing this for a while but am still waiting to see results.

So, the $64,000 question is: do we put off my education for another year and buy a house now, which may result in us making money off of the house later or losing money altogether; or do we go ahead and pursue my education now and buy a house later, which may cost us less money, or the housing prices could skyrocket again and we'd be paying $400k for the same house as described above?

Shit.

I can't decide which is more important. Any advice?

Did I mention that my husband is wonderful?
Well, he is.

Here is some of my photography for you to enjoy.

Waves, Ballard Lochs, Fall 2005

Times Square, New York, Fall 2005

Snag at the Donner Settlement, Truckee, California, Spring 2005

Sears Tower, Chicago, Summer 2006

Reflection, Skagit Valley Tulip Festival Spring 2006

Dead Tree in Northeastern California, Spring 2006

Madrona Trees, Orcas Island, Summer 2004

Child's Footprint in the Sand, Rialto Beach, WA Summer 2005

Black and white tulips, Skagit Valley Tulip Festival Spring 2006

A Shadow on my Heart

2007-04-11T14:40:00.000-07:00

Today, there is a tiny shadow on my heart. It is not the golden orb with yellow finger-like projections that it usually is.

Today, my baby girl hopped on a plane and is, as I type, preparing to land in a place she has never been to before; then she will hop on another plane and fly to her final destination, which is 3000 miles from home, which she will not arrive at until 8:00p.m., which is a place she also has never been to before.

Yes, she's flying alone. She's 10. (Is it safe to post that here?)

We hung out this morning and talked and played a little. Here and there, she would well up with tears and I would hug her and tell her she would be fine and that I love her very much. I think it was just as much for me as for her.

You see, when the time came for the flight attendant to come to the gate and get her I couldn't stop the tears as I watched her go. We hugged and hugged and hugged again before they said they had to go.

She's supposed to call me when she gets to her first destination where she will have a layover a little more than an hour.

She can handle it. But can I?

Expletive Deleted

2007-04-09T19:15:00.000-07:00

Last week my husband and I decided to spend our savings and buy a new computer.

Bad idea.

We bought a brand new Gateway GM5426 for a great price and were so excited. We brought it home and started it up, configured it to our satisfaction and began playing the demo games and having fun. The next day I bought a wireless adapter for it so that we could increase the speed of our Internet connection, brought it home and had some trouble installing it, but our computer savvy friend came over and touched it with his magic finger and voila! It worked.

Then it happened.

At some point that evening, the computer turned itself off and never turned back on.

So, hubby and I took it back up to Best Buy for a quick look-over and found out that it had a faulty power supply. So we were offered an exchange. The catch: they didn't have anymore of that model in stock and were so backordered that they didn't know when they'd get more in. They said they could see if another store would hold one and we could go pick it up. Problem: the stores that had them in stock were in Federal Way and Tukwila--at least a 100 mile drive from where we live. The customer service guy tried to convince me that the Federal Way store would hold one for me and allow me to exchange the computer we had for a new one when I was going to be in the area many days later, even though my name wasn't attached to the line of credit it was bought on. To top that off, he wouldn't get a name of a person that I could ask for to ensure that it wouldn't be a waste of my time. My faith in that transaction was nil. I decided to try and talk to someone else.

I was able to catch another guy to talk to and he offered much more assistance. Apparently he was present when they trained for customer service. He offered us a $150 upgrade to an even better computer for $50 and we took it. Great deal.

Fast forward to today.

We've been using this new computer for four days. It's been running like a dream and we just love it.

Today, the sound quit working. I got home around noon after running errands with the kids and sat down to use the computer to find out that there was no sound and nothing in my repetoir of computer knowledge could fix it. I called Best Buy to try and speak with someone in the "Geek Squad," what a name, but I guess if they don't care (the "Geeks"), then I don't. I was told they were busy and could I leave a name and number where they would get in touch with me in about fifteen minutes or so. Knowing it would be much longer than fifteen minutes, I left my name and set out to get the problem dealt with. I went to the Gateway website to chat online with a tech support person.

I spent about an hour and a half chatting with this person whom I allowed remote access to control my mouse and keyboard, and never really getting the issue resolved. I can't even begin to tell you about the computer organs I played with today. I feel like I should marry the stupid thing, I got so intimate with it.

Then I called Best Buy again, approximately three hours after I originally left a message. I was talking with this lady who was helping me, but then she decided to transfer me to a cordless phone and I got disconnected. I tried calling back but was left on hold for about twenty minutes and hung up to call back.

I went straight for the jugular. My conversation began with, "Yes, hello, may I please speak with a manager?"

The supervisor finally got me in contact with the Geek Squad supervisor, and she and I spent another twenty minutes trying to work it all out. To no avail.

The sound still doesn't work.

So tomorrow, I will make my eighth trip to Best Buy in the last week and a half to return yet another computer. I'm so glad we got our fixed laptop back today.

Wish me luck, friends. Or, maybe you should wish Best Buy some luck, cuz I'm gonna rip them a new one if something good doesn't come out of this trip tomorrow.

Did I mention that the new computer is running Windows Vista, which totally blows?

Someone Help!

2007-04-08T09:54:00.000-07:00

How do I view my own profile, with all the interests and all that? I don't think I've even filled that stuff out yet!

Little Boys and Dandelions

2007-04-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

The best thing about dandelions is that little boys don't know they're "weeds" and they pick them to bring to their moms.

My little one was late coming home from the bus the other day and I was getting upset, worrying that something had happened to him. I looked out the window one last time to see if I could see him and there he was, frolicking up the driveway with something suspiciously yellow in his hands.

When he walked in the door, he came up to me with a huge grin on his face and his hands behind his back. He said, "Close your eyes, mom." So I closed my eyes and waited patiently to hear him say, "Okay, open them!" When I opened my eyes, he was holding a fistfull of bright yellow dandelions. His small, eight-year-old fist could barely grip all of the flowers he had brought to me. He was so proud of himself for bring all of the blooms all the way up our driveway without damaging them, and was so pleased that I was so pleased. We put them in a cup with some water and watched them for a while.

They've since died--we all know how long dandelion blooms last, even when they stay in the ground--but he keeps bringing fresh ones to replace them.

How do ya work this thing?

2007-04-04T11:28:00.000-07:00

We bought a new computer yesterday and now I am trying to upload a picture from a disc to the "add page elements" section of this blog, but it just won't work. The window pops up to upload, but then this icon with radiating marks spins around and around and does nothing for my blog. I left it like this all through dinner last night hoping that it was just going to take a while, but to no avail. Can anyone help me? In the mean time, here is a pic of Apollo and I on our birthday. I almost never like pics of myself, but I really like this one...

Ruby: She's A Gem

2007-03-30T10:47:00.000-07:00

Ok, so Ruby has been with us for a week and a day now. Sunday we will go down to the Alternative Humane Society's Adopt-A-Thon at a local doggie daycare and pay $120 to adopt our newest family member. She gets along fabulously with the other dog (my best friend's dog) and our cat and loves the kids--even the three year old hellion (also my best friend's). We figured out that she's yellow lab and pointer, so she's really smart, playful, loving, and loyal. She's awesome.

Radiance

2007-03-29T13:05:00.000-07:00

I wanted to share this photo. I took it on Apollo's birthday. It's a picture of his mom and dad an hour or so before he was born.

Radiant.

Beautiful.

There's nothing like a woman in labor.

Glorious Morning

2007-03-28T15:05:00.000-07:00

This is what the lake looked like during my walk on my birthday. What a beautiful morning! I'm loving this weather.

Welcome Apollo!

2007-03-26T22:18:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday.

Today is also the birthday of Apollo, born at 6:15 this evening.

My birthday began last night with dinner with a great group of friends. I was careful to only have one drink because I knew that my doula client was more than a week overdue and I was sure the baby would be born on my birthday. I met a friend at 8 a.m. this morning for a walk around the lake, then my husband and I met my dad for coffee and a bagel. I spent the bulk of the day running around with my husband, doing random things. At some point we decided to drive south to a movie theater in a nearby town.

I got the call at around 2:00 that my client (let's call her Suzy Q) had taken some castor oil and contractions began about 15 minutes apart. James and I bagged the movie idea and headed back to town. At 3:30 I got a call that Suzy Q's contractions were now 4 to 5 minutes apart and she and her partner were supposed to meet the midwife at the birth center at 4. Instead of heading over to their house as was planned, I decided to meet them at the birth center because I didn't think I had time to get all the way over to their house in time to meet them to go. Suzy Q and her partner arrived at 4:05 and the midwife checked her to find that she was already dilated to 6 cm. Her labor was moving along quickly!

Suzy Q and her partner got into the tub, a large, triangular tub situated in a nice cozy corner of the room, and he and I helped Suzy Q ride the waves of her contractions. With every breath, we held her--he at her knees, holding her hands and breathing with her; and I at her head providing support with my hands planted on her shoulders. She rode each contraction beautifully, always breathing and remaining poised and relaxed and calm. She was absolutely radiant.

After about an hour in the tub, the midwife checked her again and discovered that she was 8 cm, almost complete! She sat in the tub for a little while longer before moving to the bed. Almost as soon as she was situated on the bed, she began uttering these primal noises with a contraction--a sure sign that she was almost ready to push. On the next contraction she could no longer not push. She rolled over onto her back and gave one good push and we could see his head. We could see his soft head and hair through the amniotic sac and fluid. Then the most amazing thing happened: she pushed once more and the baby's body came sliding out, and he was still encapsuled in his amniotic sac! This is known as being "born in the caul," and is seen as a sign of good fortune. There are even legends that children being born in the caul have clairvoyant gifts.

This birth took just over four hours from contractions 15 minutes apart to the birth of the baby. I am honored to share a birthday with Apollo. What an amazing experience.

Kissing Pigs

2007-03-21T08:47:00.000-07:00

So, here I sit, on my couch watching Animal Planet. There are a pig and a goat with tennis balls on his horns play fighting. The pig is kissing, the goat is head butting.

So much has happened over the last month and I barely know how to go into it.

My son has run away for the third time in a month. He just got out of juvenile detention last Wednesday and was gone again on Monday. There is nothing I can say about it. If he wants to go out there and get high and pretend like he's a man, so be it. There's nothing I can do. I've tried being sympathetic (why did I just notice that the word has "pathetic" in it?); I've tried being a hardass; I've told him stories about when I was on the street. He doesn't listen. What can I do?

On the next sunny weekend day my little family along with some close friends are going to go out to my poppa's house and create a shrine on Austin's grave. My good friend, Melanie, has some Japanese maples that have sprouted up from seeds (?) dropped from her maple, and we are going to plant one where Austin is buried. I'm excited to make a real memorial. We're also going to have a stone carved--two of them, actually--and put one out there with her. I can finally think about her and not cry. I think I'm ready to move on. And so...

Monday James and I took the kids to meet a 10 month old golden lab mix through the Alternative Humane Society. She's a real sweetie and so we're going to bring her home tomorrow (Thursday) for a couple of days to see if she can get along with our cat and learn a few things about living with us. She has lived her whole life on a two-foot leash in a Shelton back yard, so she has no leash manners and she has never learned to stick around. She is also a little skittish because she's never really been socialized with people. However, she was really sweet with James and the kids and I, once she warmed up to us, and she's an eager learner. Her foster "parents" told us that, in the week they've had her, she has learned to sit and lay down, is crate trained and was potty trained in ONE DAY!!! So I feel confidence that it will work out. She's so sweet! They've been calling her Rory, but if she stays with us, we will call her Ruby (knowing me, though, I'll probably spell it in some screwy way like Rubee, or Roubee, or Roubie).

James is skeptical. Austin is the only dog he's ever had a good experience with and they shared a strong bond that he isn't feeling ready to replace. I explained to him that I'm not looking to replace Austin; there will never be another Austin. She was a one-of-a-kind dog--she was special and she'll always hold a special place in our family. But I am a dog person. I love dogs, I've always had dogs, and they're truly the best friends that I've ever had. Austin was the first one that I was ever with for the entirety of her natural life. All the others either were given away, went away with one of my family members or died prematurely. I explained to James that a dog-friend is the most accepting and loving friend I've ever had and I'm anxious to have that bond again. I can cry to my dog and she will never judge me or tell me that I'm being unreasonable, never offer advice or tell me right from wrong. He understands what this means to me and has agreed that we can give this new dog a test-visit.

I am waiting for a doula client to go into labor. Her "due date" passed this last Saturday, March 17, so she is four days postdates. I figured he was waiting to be an Aries and it seems that my prediction is true. Although he is her second baby and subsequent pregnancies are usually shorter, this boy was waiting to be an Aries. OK, little one, you are now an Aries, come out, come out wherever you are! I am very much looking forward to this birth and am axiously awaiting the phone call.

And, lastly, I have decided to put school off until next winter. With all the shit going on over the last month and a half, I got so far behind in my schoolwork that it was going to be nearly impossible to pass any classes. That's all I'm going to say about that right now.

Adios Amiga, Te Quiero Mucho

2007-03-16T22:48:00.000-07:00

It's been ten days since I lost my best friend. For twelve and a half years this beautiful golden lab accompanied me for walks and hikes, the birth of my last child, on road trips, and was there in my every day. I miss her. I love her. What a beautiful friendship we had. I will never forget Austin B'gaustin Po Paustin from Boston; who was acually from Bellingham. She lived from May 8, 1994 to March 7, 2007. Kisses to you baby girl.