the belly chronicles

I've moved!

2008-05-15T12:15:00.000-07:00

Well not literally ...

But The Belly Chronicles are now located here.

Come visit!

spring means summer on the coast

2008-05-14T23:27:00.000-07:00

Spring is the time on the coast when you start to think, "Oh, it's so warm, summer's coming." We forget that these seasons that sandwich summer are the warmest, when the fog doesn't develop and even the wind is warm. We've been soaking it up, from a CSA picnic (gotta have sustenance before you start picking strawberries and lemon balm) to a river stroller walk to an alfresco dinner (with some tempeh reubens so good Isaiah said, "You rock, mom dude.") Yes, he's 3.

Isaiah had a long phone chat with his Grandpa from the stroller. He said, "I didn't take a nap and Meli's sleeping, so I'm just taking a stroller walk and enjoying the view." So am I, Isaiah, so am I.

I learned today how much Isaiah needs to be in charge. We ended up at the river alone, on a spontaneous playdate. He told me what to do each step of the way. Where to sit on our ship. Which willow branch to use as my fishing pole. How it had to exactly touch the "sea" below. Standing in the river, I was allowed to choose my own rocks for bait, but had to do it in exactly the same way as he did. I told him afterward how nice it was to let someone else make the decisions for a change.

2008-05-11T20:30:00.000-07:00

Happy Mother's Day! One of the joys of motherhood is that you always have someone who will share your breakfast in bed with you...sweet moments. We were happy to send off our long-distance felted bouquets to grandmas this week...small tokens of our love.

I also want to do some bragging about my super-skilled husband who spent 2 years working with the owner of this big off-the-grid timber frame/strawbale house. Steve and Paul chiseled each mortise and tenon, planed each piece of wood, build the frame and helped it go up on crane day. And now a family lives in it, making it cozy and turning it into their sweet hilltop home.

If you want a chuckle, please enjoy this mom's day song.

flowing

2008-05-07T19:18:00.000-07:00

As we contemplate our next move--"the wandering jews" my father calls us--I tap into my true ruminating nature. That is the primary characteristic of the Earth type in Chinese medicine and I am all earth: singsong voice, mother (and meddler) to all, rounder body type with strong hands, sweet tooth, easily bogged down, obsessive ruminator. Regurgitator.

I was thinking today about what is really important to me, trying to clarify a strong intention for our next move so we can quit our wandering, and I realized that not only have I gotten so spoiled by 17 years on the coast, but the last 2 places we've lived have been walking distance to the river. OK, I understand these can't be pre-requisites, but our family knows deeply the restorative power of flowing water and river stones (as well as the killer baseball skills so much rock throwing develops).

Gotta love it here. First we come upon a rusted out shell of car, covered in dust, engine revving as it crawls totally vertical up a rock face under the bridge. I think Isaiah and I had very different ideas about the coolness factor of that sight!

Then, we were reintroduced to a new season of one of our river mugworts, just up and glowing there in the middle of the rocks, about 10 leaves tall. We greeted it so happily and when we asked for some leaves, it beamed Yes! Yes! Yes! We each had a leaf next to our dinner plate, and will place them under our pillows for interesting dreams tonight.

Speaking of dreams, I had an alarming dream last week (this is me who usually dreams of cooking dinner or tripping as I walk down the street) about some Burmese monks walking down the street in a protest, us joining in and then metal walls dropping down to fence city blocks into a police state. So sad what's going on in Burma. Although the scale is different, it reminds me of how unbelievable it seemed that the US government couldn't/wouldn't help the people of New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina.

Thanks to K to supplying a link to an organization--Avaaz-- that works solely with monks to distribute aid. According to their letter, placing money with the monks is the only way to be sure it won't be misused or outright stolen by the military junta in control. I haven't fully checked it out, so do your homework first, but it sounds good to me.

One more thing...if you're feeling inspired in the kitchen or if you're in need of inspiration, head on over to mama's village and join her excellent contest on avoiding takeout and feeding the family so well. Takeout's not an issue for us, given our distance from Thai food, but I'm always happy to talk about our meals.

2 great grandchildren + 4 hands + 95 years = 1 pillow

2008-05-06T22:14:00.000-07:00

Well, there it is. Not bad for a first embroidery project. Of course I wish I could be there for my Nanny's 95th birthday, but we put lots of love into this pillow.

On a heavier note, my heart goes out the people of Burma. Those who lost their lives and those who lost their homes and loved ones. I haven't had a chance to research yet how to best aid them. Feel free to send me any helpful links.

ass-u-m-ptions

2008-05-05T21:48:00.000-07:00

Ahhh...as soon as we got this news about moving and I started to feel the range of emotions as they slowly sink in, I got a clear hit that this could open unexpected doors for us and take us where we need to go. I could easily see in the first few hours over margaritas with girlfriends that the things that bother me are the parts that aren't real, the monkeys jumping in my head , as candace would say. The inconvenience, that's real. The other stuff, hmmm...let's see. What are some of these assumptions?

The children need the childhood experience I've set up for them. We are creating our own cooperative, with a mom friends circle surrounding the kid friends circle--moms creating the curriculum and setting that is ideal for the children. Well, yes, of course that is all true and our vision for Luna Kids Cooperative is real and beautiful and manifesting as we speak. But I also realize that that is my ideal of their childhood. The most important thing we can give them is a loving home and sane parents. But look at all the people who thrive even without that.

I've been wishing lately that I could ask Isaiah (and soon Miel, I'm sure) 20 years from now: what would you rather have? A childhood closer to Grandma and Grandpa and Nonni and Poppop or a life in a sweet community on the northern California coast? These are the decisions we make as parents, especially as parents who find themselves working at home, on computers, wherever they choose.

Things shouldn't be like this. That's a good one, isn't it? The whole book The Power of Now seems to be about accepting everything exactly as it is. Wouldn't it be great if you could just read a book and change your mind? I'm interested in checking out his new Oprah-friendly book....everyone seems to be carrying it around with them. Will it help me?

I shouldn't have to deal with this. Uh-huh. And everyone should be happy and healthy and have exactly what they want. I shouldn't have to suffer! I'm suspecting that this is not only a uniquely modern sentiment, but also one much more prevalent in the United States than in other places and even more especially, in California, the land of Lifestyle. I'll be that in cultures ravaged by war, famine, dictatorship, and poverty, the (woe is me) inconvenience of moving (oh the effort) from one nice house to another (but not as nice!) is pretty much unfathomable.

We should own a house. We should have more money. Steve should make more money. I should have saved more money. This list could go on and on, shame and recrimination for days.

So...what's next? We are looking at places in Blue Lake, Arcata, Wadmalaw Island, western North Carolina. I am doing some serious fantasizing about intentional communities and ecovillages and have been curious about Earthaven for years. Any cool connections you can recommend in the Carolinas? Boone? Celo?

Thanks for coming along for the ride!

When Your Team Is Down and Out, It Is Time to Jump and Shout

2008-05-04T21:41:00.000-07:00

One thing among many that I love about the library--it is full of surprises! Isaiah chooses DVDs from the library and is allowed to watch them upon waking on Saturday and Sunday mornings. When he picked out the Bella Dancerella cheerleading workout, I almost said no, and then thought, "Hey, jumping, stretching, why not?"

Well, it's taken hold here and this morning found me up from my desk, Steve roused from bed, all of us trying out the starburst jump, the arm roll, and reminding each other to "Make your good better and your better best!"

Yes, those balls of roving wool are our makeshift pompoms until we buy our Bella mats and pompoms and skirts and sweaters. . . not.

And thank you, dear readers, for your supportive comments, emails and phone calls about our soon-to-be uprooted status. I feel the connections and really feel that on this earth ship we are all in it together.

domesticus interruptus

2008-05-02T23:39:00.000-07:00

Whoa...looks like we're on the move again. We just received our 60-day notice from our landlord--they need our house for unforeseen circumstances for a family member. Very nice note, at least. Good tenants, great references, how very sorry, was hoping to catch you in person...

But now we see yet one more reason why renting sucks.

In some weird way, it feels ok. It will give us the push we need to make something happen...whether it's buying a house, moving East, something.

But right now it just feels gosh-darn inconvenient. As in, we hardly have time to do what we need to do each day for the next 2 months. Um, moving and packing and looking for a place weren't exactly factored in.

In case you didn't already know, we just moved back to our home in which both children were born after a year + in a yurt on a farm. We've been happily enjoying the luxury of mod-cons, even as we wince at our growing bellies and slumping computer posture.

And so, the ride begins again. We get more practice in trusting the flow of this life, knowing we can't control it all. Trying to make the right choices for our family. Enjoying the beauty and wonder of each day.

The Future's So Bright, I've Got to Nap with My Shades

2008-05-02T14:32:00.001-07:00

Thanks for the title, Papa Steve!

Our funny bunny...not only does she love to nap in her little tent, she insists on sleeping in full regalia.

Beltane!

2008-05-01T23:54:00.000-07:00

Happy May Day!

We've been celebrating by reading Elsa Beskow's delightful The Flowers' Festival and by starting what might become a new tradition.

I loved our spring egg tree and so enjoyed blowing out the eggs and decorating them. As the buds were drying brown on our "tree trunk," it was obviously time to make space for the coming solstice. I had read and heard that we could save the eggs from year to year, and maybe when the children are older and can do their own blown ones (they only worked on the hardboiled eggs this year), we'll save the keepsakes. For now, though, I know I'll want to do at least as many next year and how many eggs do we really need?

They've been hanging on our fairy tree this week--which is in full bloom with deep purple lilacs--and we've been waiting to see what the fairies do with them.

Today--which in addition to being May Day was also Isaiah's first day of a Montessori home-based preschool!--Isaiah and I decided to help the eggs along. We're never far from a bat these days, with baseball fever upon us, so he slugged away at each egg strung up on the tree. Many of them got batted down whole, at which point I pitched them to Isaiah and he smashed them to smithereens in mid-air. I got to do one, too. Fun!

What's next? Skeet shooting?

warp speed

2008-04-30T20:22:00.000-07:00

Moving at 100 miles per hour leaves little time for the creativity of new posts. Somehow I'm fitting in over 30 hours a week of editing while scrabbling together bits of childcare. Usually that means me editing from 6:30 to 10 am. Plus the 3 days a week we have babysitters. And I'm working in the teeny, tiny cracks to prepare for a big conference presentation in June (for which I'd like to finish a little booklet and have a website together.)

The scrabbling together part might be changing. Isaiah is going to try out a home-based Montessori preschool, just 6 children and 1 teacher for the next couple of months, twice a week. His little buddy C goes to the school and as we were saying goodnight to them after a baseball-filled, ice cream truck excited dinner (the sheer joy of the boy house!), Isaiah got to say "See you at school tomorrow!" to his friend.

He is in equal parts excited and apprehensive. He tells me doesn't feel like going tomorrow, then talk about the lunch we planned and the backpack he'll take it in. Of course, lunch and snacks have received elaborate planning from our little gourmand.

I'm curious how others handle the juggle of work, ambitions, and inspired family life. I seek--as with everything else I've ever done in life--to find that precise optimal balance of challenge, inspiration, relaxation, stimulation. It's a joy (and essential for us) to keep the money flowing in, and I have some large ambitions that are important to keep working toward, and I want to give the children the best of my time and energy. It's an ever-evolving spiral, isn't it? Rather than one perfect moment. It's all the perfect moment.

Isaiah is full of his first joke these days, learned from TQ:
"Why did the banana go to the doctor?"
"Because he wasn't peeling well."
And Miel, bless her little heart, repeats it over and over, a laugh if you already know what she's saying..

birdwatching

2008-04-25T15:45:00.000-07:00

One birding book and we have birdwatching fever! Isaiah particularly took to the page of "What to Wear and Bring."

hat with a brim?
check
backpack?
check
field guide?
check
comfortable shoes or boots?
check
binoculars?
check
clothes that aren't too bright (not orange)
check
snacks?
double check

Birdwatching club, anyone?

first ponytail!

2008-04-25T15:38:00.000-07:00

Oh to be a California boy.
And a stylish first ponytail it is...hand knit from Hot Knots, owned by dear friend and neighbor Gayle.

milk rant

2008-04-24T15:12:00.000-07:00

After a child turns a certain age, whenever I leave the West coast I feel pressure and even a certain amount of communal disgust that I would nurse a baby who can eat, walk, hold a bottle, ask for it. It doesn't phase me anymore, and I trust my decisions about what best supports my children's development and the flow of our family life. And I always travel with a scarf or a shawl.

I've also heard gruff reminders that question under their breath the choices I make for the children. "You do give that boy milk, don't you?"

As a matter of fact I do give the children all kinds of milk--cow, goat, almond, rice, soy. And our 3-year-old is now weaned, after a tuxedo-clad weaning party on the farm, replete with strawberry goat milk ice cream.

But the comments do get me wondering. Why is it so strange to see a thriving toddler seek the comfort of cuddling up with her mama, skin on skin, for some warm milk full of nutrients and antibodies, but it's totally acceptable to drink milk another animal's breast? A big, furry animal who mucks around in the grass and mud all day. And at least I'm thinking here of the milk we drink--local, organic, grass-fed cow milk. What about the industrial kind? Cows standing in their own manure, subjected to artificial light, not allowed room to lie down, injected with antibiotics to try to compensate for their living conditions.

Who is convincing us that this is better for our children? It reminds me of the great formula hoax, a marketing coup if I ever saw one. If marketers can sell several generations of women on the concept that a synthetic formula is better for their children than the milk their mammalian bodies (yes, that's right, under all those clothes and personal care products, behind those steering wheels and computer screens, we are animals) naturally produce, they can sell us anything. . . diet chocolate chip cookie biscuits for our dogs, DVDs to make our babies smarter, those nice Coca Cola bottles that feel as wholesome as a Sunday picnic, war.

returning home

2008-04-23T22:41:00.000-07:00

It seems odd that traveling home from a visit with Grandma and Grandpa should be an epic affair...a full day of flying and then one of driving, but for us, for now, that is the case. Either that means I should move closer or I shouldn't be so daunted by the distance of living in a foreign country.

A warm bath calls, but first...

At Real Goods Solar Living Center, our favorite pit stop to load up on healthy snacks, use recycled pill bottle restrooms, browse the sumptuously groovy shop, ride the solar carousel and play in the water. After a mini shopping spree (including puzzle boy's first 100-piece jigsaw), the children stomped in the water trough and the huge puddles in the parking lot.

Fortunately for me, I am totally relaxed about these things and went to the car to get them some dry clothes for the next leg of our journey. When I had everything ready (and realized we'd be lucky to get home by 6 pm), I called out, "OK, When I count to 5, I want you over here at the car." Isaiah called back, "When I count to 6, I want you in this puddle."

Hmmmm...I'm still in the grace period. He showed up at the car without missing a beat. I wonder how long that will last.

pesach on the beach

2008-04-20T19:50:00.000-07:00

We took advantage of the full moon rising to have a memorable seder on the beach. Isaiah said the 4 questions and found the afikomen for the second night in a row, and Miel really got into dipping (and drinking) the 10 (or 40...) plagues.

full daze

2008-04-20T19:46:00.000-07:00

It's amazing what a day of kayaking through the marsh and swimming for hours will do to a couple of little ones. Leaving for nap time in the bike trailer, they didn't quite make it home.

pesach at the beach

2008-04-19T20:29:00.000-07:00

beach life

2008-04-17T21:04:00.001-07:00

Isaiah, our baseball-, soccer-, basketball-loving sportshound has picked up a new sport. There's talk of getting him a set of graphite clubs next year. Lucky boy.

Everyone has adjusted easily to beach life...finding hermit crabs in shells, great blue herons in the marsh, and lots of treats at Grandma and Grandpa's house!

jet set

2008-04-17T20:45:00.000-07:00

ahhh...let's just take a few moments to appreciate the glamour of air travel with young children. Changes of clothes for everyone? Check. Daughter picking out goldfish to eat that is stuck between airplane seats? Check. Proud potty power boy using the facilities 4 times on a 4-hour flight, just as our aisle-seatmate is dozing off? Check. All in all, this one was a very easy flight for us frequent fliers.

And the props totally go to beeswax modeling sticks. $1/each at our local environmentally-friendly store Solutions...and they each get us at least a half hour of play. Which on the plane equals about 2 1/2 elephant years. The temptation to give in to airport branded toys/fastfood/dvd world is strong, but yum, the smell of beeswax on an airplane.

We got a perfect view straight into the Grand Canyon...Isaiah's first glimpse when he could actually appreciate it. And the Mississippi River.

Oh yeah...hour plus naps for both children at the same time.

Like I said, an easy flight.

slow goodbyes

2008-04-10T00:39:00.000-07:00

Steve showed me a blog the other day that has a young woman's (one of the beautiful youtube vlogger-types) countdown to suicide, ..90 days, 89 days, etc. I only glanced at the site, but what i saw was convoluted drama. As I lie here with Belly, having quite a long and intense chat with her, I realized that we're in our own countdown, Belly and I. We might not know the number of days (at least I don't), but we have been slowly acknowledging that our days together are numbered. I cannot fully speak for her, except the parts of our conversation she has made fully clear to me, but I am already seeing that she is going to be the incredible teacher to me in her death that she has been through all the stages of our life together. She has taught me to care for another. She has taught me to care for myself. She has taught me consistency. She has taught me responsibility. She has been a patient teacher, withholding judgments of my pace of learning. She will teach me how to grieve in ways I cannot yet imagine. Maybe she'll help me heal my fear of death.

As we lay here, I have deep appreciation for our vet, Sarah Greene. Sarah has taught me to be a better mom/companion/caretaker to Belly through her consistent respect for and communication with Belly. The deep dignity she accords the animals models so much for me. I would always have considered myself very close and connected to Belly, but Sarah continues to remind me to be even more consistent, more attentive to Belly's needs. When we go to Sarah, often the children aren't with me or, if they are, they see that this is Belly's turn to get attention, that this is where Belly comes first. I can't think of a single other vet (and I've had some really great and kind ones, like Irving Street Clinic in San Francisco) that felt like a haven, like a place of renewal. Her love and dedication are astounding and inspiring. She is not afraid of the love I have for my dog. She will share this journey with me.

daily wardrobe

2008-04-06T23:26:00.000-07:00

Miel, Miele, Meli, meli-moo, moo-moo, jalapeno jelly, rascally, sweetie-girl, honeydrop, faygala, bugaboo-boo, wonderlove, screamer (sung to the tune of Supertramp's "Dreamer"...just a few of our favorite endearments. And let us not forget the most often used...SqueakerBee for our little squeaker.

These days, this jacket and these boots are her daily wear, hands in pockets indoors and out.

Exploding with sentences among the family, glaring at others under her eyebrows until she warms up to her true silliness. Must have "my bear" and "my hat" with her at all times.

Loving the first day of baseball season almost as much as her ball-crazy brother.

swapped

2008-04-04T21:19:00.000-07:00

We received a lovely thank you from Melissa and family for our swap package. It was so much fun and I can't wait to take the children to the post office on Monday to unveil our goodies.

Melissa asked how to make the felt journals for the children. So easy! I cut the size felt we wanted, cut drawing paper to a slightly smaller size, then staple the drawing paper together and stapled the felt over top. Then I needle-felted yarn onto the cover for the edge and names. I felted some dots and needled them onto the cover. Next time I would do the cover embellishments first, then the stapling, but it was creative process. You know how it goes.

The headband is a strip of knit 2, purl 2, stitched together at the end.
We hope Sammy and Abby and their parents get lots of fun and some independent playtime with their new toys.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...we love to play family games in the evenings, especially guessing games. Tonight after we finished our birthday celebration dinner with dear friend Claire, we played our guessing game version of charades where one person acts out what he wants the others to guess (remember, this is a 3 year old and 20 month old so we definitely keep it simple).
After moving through the standard snake, cat, chicken laying eggs, I took the position of chair pose, also known as strong pose. After Isaiah guessed "tree," I took a deeper seat, hoping to get a truer shape. "TOILET!" Isaiah yelled out, naming not only a very specific kind of chair, but his favorite throne these days.

And Miel chose to re-enact flamingo pose several times for us, each time putting her boots on first.

lovely day

2008-03-31T14:39:00.000-07:00

After getting our swap package ready for the big swap (and of course posing for a picture), we had a wet feet river walk/lunch/t-ball date with our buddy TQ. Some playdates end with a speedy ragged goodbye, others extend into the dreamworld.

every saturday is mother's day

2008-03-29T20:32:00.001-07:00

Well, after so enjoying today, I was told that every Saturday can be my holiday. Ok, I'll take that. It was so nice that on my first day of not teaching at night after 5 straight, Steve picked me tulips, mopped the floor, and made black bean soup and cornbread.

And at our after-dinner family campfire, Miel gave new meaning to "slide guitar." I already see her piercings and punker look, our little "jalapeno jelly," so sweet and spicy. And yes, that's her art above. She's discovered the splatter (and so have the curtains and walls).

As Miel napped on our favorite neighbor's tummy, I thought that everyone needs a 12-year-old family best friend.

nourished heart

2008-03-28T22:58:00.000-07:00

I know I've mentioned how busy these 4 weeks are, so I'm going to ask you some questions. Please answer in any way that inspires you.

What does Nourished Heart mean to you?
Have you ever struggled with your weight, body image, what or amount you eat? How does it affect you now? What helps? What has helped you in the past?

More to come on this, but it's a major focus of my work and I'd love to hear from you about any experiences you'd like to share.

A quick sign off to end this week, but not before thanking witty and generous Candace for her kind words about this blog...Wow! Is that what being tagged means??

making quality time

2008-03-26T22:30:00.000-07:00

This is the month we've been gearing up for. I'm teaching 4 nights a week (teaching Asian Bodywork at the Arcata School of Massage and teaching my own form of bodywork for the first time--blissbody therapy is the working title), editing, still trying to keep up forming LUNA Kids (our cooperative preschool) and basically being a full-time mom with Steve and I picking up the pieces late each night.

The good news--I came home to fennel, jerusalem artichoke and potato gratin; chard, raisin and pine nuts; and freshbaked shortbread! Gotta leave them to their own devices more often...go Steve!

But...it takes its toll on the children, all this crunched time and chaos. All of a sudden Isaiah can't put on his light-up sneakers by himself. I asked him today why, after all this time, he suddenly has difficulty putting them on. "Because I want to be your baby."

And I'll take every baby minute I can get.

scents of spring

2008-03-24T23:05:00.001-07:00

And for today's food idea, I'm going to have to borrow from the lovely Cheryl, because tomorrow for breakfast we're going to have leftover quinoa with blueberries, apples, toasted sprouted seeds and yogurt. Yum...wholesome bliss!

Celebrate everything!

2008-03-22T23:56:00.000-07:00

Clearly, the insanity continues. Though I think I'll adopt craftsanity as a more enabling mantra, inspired as I am by the craftsanity podcasts (yes, that's right, I'm listening to podcasts, pulled into the 21st century after all).

Note the lambswool bunnies--my first sewing machine project!--ready for equinox weekend and Easter Sunday. The egg tree came out of nowhere, I swear. Claire came over yesterday with all the fixins for coloring eggs and I was left today with the gorgeous hardboiled ones we did with the children and the delicate blown-out ones Claire and I played with late night (minus the exploded by bicycle pump egg that was a failed engineering experiment). At 10:30 this evening I went into the yard for a branch and voila, a tree to wake up to.

As I was putting together the photo albums in the children's baskets, I came across fall equinox pictures from the Garcia River at Oz. Here we are, half a wheel later, emerging into the bright, outdoor time. Children growing so quickly, trying to still let them be nature beings.

This is the first time I've ever put together Easter baskets. We celebrated the equinox all week (especially with a fabulous tiedye party, thanks K!), lit the shabbot candles, I went to a goddess dance gathering this evening and came home and put together the baskets and tree as a surprise for the morning. I know you could peg me for a spiritual dilettante, but I beg to differ. It is intriguing to me that the best of each religion shares at its root a call to celebrate nature, respect one another and hold ourselves to the highest moral standards. I will always be drawn to Judaism because it is the tradition and nourishment of my ancestors, but I embrace the thread that connects the points on the spiritual compass and love to find the heart in all traditions.

That is why you will find me celebrating everything. The daily rituals of arising, naptime, dinner; the weekly rhythms and the wheel of the year mark our days and ultimately our lives. We might as well take note, eat well and find plenty of reasons to dance! And tomorrow, we'll hunt.

I guess egg salad would be a little too obvious for today's food idea. But the frittata I whipped up with the blown-out insides and leftover shrimp and asparagus was definitely tasty. I added 3 extra beaten egg whites to the rest of the eggs to make it so light, as much a souffle as a frittata, perfect for the lightness of spring.

wow! colored eggs

2008-03-22T01:06:00.001-07:00

And a "mama's home for dinner" spring celebration...giant wild prawns, our first asparagus of the season over noodles. How many prawns can Isaiah gleefully stuff in his mouth at the same time? For dessert, a song circle with Claire, everyone taking a turn with guitars and the performer's chair.

which is scarier?

2008-03-20T22:58:00.001-07:00

me blogging and sewing bunny ears at all hours or miel with full tresses?

it's okay, i already know the answer.

equinox!

2008-03-20T22:10:00.001-07:00

A rainy day, a still life, a drawing and bright wet-on-wet paintings makes us all feel cozy and cheerful!

And for food ideas today....What happens when mama is teaching 4 nights a week, editing 15 hours a week and still trying to be an inspired at-home mama? The roast chicken of Tuesday becomes black bean, chicken, cheese and chopped kale enchiladas and chicken, rice vegetable soup whipped up simultaneously during naptime. 3 meals...thank you chicken! And both the enchiladas and the soup hold lots of kale and other veggies inside their yumminess. The first of 4 hectic weeks just got a lot easier. And, yes, papa can cook. Mama is just wanting to control what goes in their bodies and give everyone a little breathing room.

green food

2008-03-20T00:41:00.000-07:00

Okay, nettle lovers. You know who you are and I know you've been wanting those pancakes. So easy, so green, so rich in vitamins and minerals...nettle pancakes. Use your favorite pancake recipe: Mine lately is 1 cup mixed barley and spelt flour, 1 t baking powder, a pinch of sugar and salt mixed together. 1 egg beaten with 1 cup buttermilk and 1 T melted butter. Mix wet and dry gently. Have your nettles already prepared by steaming them and chopping the leaves finely. Mix the nettles into the batter. I like to pack as much green as I possibly can using batter to hold them together.

You can serve them savory with goat cheese sauce (fresh goat cheese melted with a little milk) or sweet with yogurt, syrup, butter, applesauce. At my house, pancakes are never round. They are bears or ducks or today, goats with beard and horn. Good thing my kids don't know I can't draw when they ask me to make these things. My goat actually looked pretty good, beard and all.

And yes, you gotta go pick them! It's almost too late here in northern California, but there are some that aren't too flowery yet. You can wear gloves if you want or you can get into a meditative state like my friend Greenlight and approach each plant with an awareness of the direction of the spikes and pick with great awareness. A wonderful exercise if you have the time!

some days flow

2008-03-18T13:58:00.000-07:00

When the chicken is roasting, the kale in the steamer pot and the potatoes are ready to be mashed, the whole family can take a pre-dinner river walk. Ahhh...the days when the rhythm is smooth, the walk is a dance. (And even "my bear" makes the trip.)

And there you have today's meal idea. Chicken this time was a huge onion and two carrots and garlic sauteed, red wine added, chicken added and baked for about 15 minutes at 450. Then covered at 350 for an hour, then turned down to 300 when we left for walk and the lid taken off to brown. Then, after removing the chicken from the pan, and the sauce to a bowl, making a quick roux of 2 tablespoons of butter and 3 of flour and stirring in the sauce to make what we called "smother sauce." Yum.

parading toward equinox

2008-03-16T23:01:00.000-07:00

Such an abundance of choices today! They mirror the choices I make for myself and my family each day. We awoke this morning with the possibilities of going to our wonderful synagogue for a super fun Purim festival or to stay in our little town and attend a spring parade party. I was so undecided, I posed (with some hesitancy, given my track record with him when I get wishy-washy) the choice to Isaiah. "Stay in town," he responded with no hesitation. And so we declined the 20-minute drive to an indoor event for a homegrown festival of a few friends.

Delight! Simplicity! We arrived to wand and necklace making out of paper flower cutouts and pipecleaners. We munched on some tasty snacks and planted seeds and seedlings (and I got to share the big box of extra snap pea starts Isaiah I had grown from seed). Actually, the sharing of my peas was a highlight. A farmer friend thanked me profusely because her family hadn't gotten around to planting their peas yet! If you know me and my total lack of garden know-how despite having just lived on a farm for the past year, you know this made my week! I guess I did learn one important lesson on the farm...the plants don't wait on your schedule. You make the time when it is their time, you squeeze it in, you make it happen. Probably a good first garden lesson to learn. We'll see how it goes when watering time comes along.

Then we paraded through town, most children on foot. Mine and TQ cozied in the wagon, ringing their bells and shaking those blossoms right out of their buds. We made enough noise of our own, traipsing past the post office and through the coffee shop, we needed no audience. We paraded for the sheer joy of it. Celebration! And as some children twirled their groggers, I was reminded yet again that to me, it is all the same...the seasonal festivals that each culture and religion shape for themselves have the same root...the miraculous turning of the seasons, twirling of the earth, that give context and structure to our daily lives.

And, I'm going to institute a new feature of this site that I hope you'll enjoy. So many people ask me for meal and snack inspiration since they know how much I love to share advice, I'm going to do my best to offer daily meal and snack suggestions. They will be seasonal. They will be mostly local. And they will generally be packed with nutrition (sometimes for body, sometimes for soul, usually for both.

We'll start simple today: Spring Deviled Eggs
I found a try at a rummage sale whose original purpose might have been shrimp cocktail or some sort of dippy thing. It works great for a try, so now I have a new staple potluck dish--all we need now is chickens. You probably don't really need a recipe for this, but just in case....

Boil and peel your eggs. Mash up the yolks with a little mayo, mustard, pinch of salt (and spicy paprika if the children don't mind) and fill. I like to use a pastry bag which makes them so easy (no yolk smears on the white) and lovely. If you have trouble mashing the yolks smoothly enough, use the bag without an insert so you still get a clean look and don't have to worry about clogs. I adorned todays eggs with borage flowers; that ethereal blue goes so great with yellow and with the bright green of spring pea soup, but we'll get to that in a few weeks.

I hope you enjoy eating this protein-rich finger food!

why blog?

2008-03-16T00:25:00.000-07:00

I warned Steve at midnight as I showed him my cleaned out, rose geranium-sprayed, organized toolbox that lives in the just cleaned and organized laundry room, it might be a long fall. I've been revved up on something as we bound toward the equinox. And whatever is not due to the fall of fire next to us that gives us more light, heat, energy every day has more to do with my own chemical composition. And, I must say, the commencement of this blog.

Every therapist I've gone to (do most people refer to their therapists in multiple?) has insisted that "No, your not bipolar. You would know it if you were." And I've always thought, well, I do know it yet other people can't see it, no matter how I try to show it, even to a therapist. Well, some might see it...you know who you are.

Two nights I was up from 2:30 to 5:30 making bunnies for the children out of a rummaged lambswool sweater. I broke out my new fabric scissors for the first time, cut up a perfectly good sweater and then got out my newly-gifted sewing machine. It took me about 10 minutes to figure out how to turn it on, about 10 more minutes of sewing to realize the foot was up. I ripped up knots the size of little hailstones, left large gaps that I later handsewed. Basically butchered the bunny.

Last night I stayed up late doing more on the bunnies (after a brief and oh-so-helpful tutorial by ZMama--she's got skills!) and then as usual these days, reading soulemama and angry chicken, my hilarious cousin's notthatidon'tlovemykids and lovely childrenoftheforest. I've been having so much fun with this blog and am enthralled and a little overwhelmed by the blogosphere. I hear the criticisms in my head. There are several people I don't want to tell for fear of their certain mockery. "Mommy bloggers." "So solipsistic." "What's the point?" I hear it all in my head. My own inner critic. This is probably a question/discovery process every blogger faces. Why do it? I know a few reasons:

As I seek to define the direction of my blog and choose my topics, I also reflect on my life, choosing where my focus lies. If I'm now spending an hour a day on my blog and others, what's going to give? I am editing 20 hours a week, preparing to teach an Asian bodywork course 4 nights a week, full-time inspired mommying full of hikes and bikes and art and all manner of enrichment, cooking up a storm, working hard to line up contractors, funding and city council support for our new cooperative preschool, with a piddling bank account, yet there's some aspect of necessary in putting these thoughts out there. It's helping me to further define my direction during this transition time of my life/career.
I also consider the unique appeal to mamas. We see a lot of each other, yet often engage in the same kind of parallel play our children do. I'm as good as they come about following one thread of a conversation through a morning filled with reading books, mediating conflicts, organizing art projects, exploring the river, yet an entire morning of that conversation can feel like just we scratched the surface. Here I can share and I don't even have to worry whether I'm boring you. You can skip, skim, never click here again.
I love to be able to share pictures and stories of our family's life to far flung family and friends.

There's more, but I've gone on too long even for myself.
And yes, all this will slow down soon and I'll be in bed with the children each night wondering how I ever had the time...

and...that picture at the top is of Isaiah at a peace march and rally today. He was such a trooper. Falling asleep on our way there, he was told he could either walk or we would leave after the introductory rally. He walked the mile of the rally at the very front of the line and soaked in the music and speaker before crashed hard from 3 till 5. We love the busy life and we love nap time!

rational beings???

2008-03-14T22:22:00.001-07:00

I've heard them called "little savages." I always thought that was a harsh misnomer, a generalization right along with "terrible two's." But some days in our family and in those families we're close to, the description equals 3-year-old.

Isaiah's best buddy TQ is a gem...curious, articulate, precocious. A good guy. I just want to clear that up right from the beginning. The story his mama told me about him must be repeated and written at least here in case she forgets to write it down herself.

TQ, potty-learned for over a year now, has been peeing all over the house when mama is away and papa is in another room. He leaves these puddles for papa to find. Gleefully it seems. This has taken place on 4 occasions in the past few weeks. The last time he did it, while papa was cleaning up the mess in the living room, TQ went into the bathroom, plugged the sink and turned on the faucet, letting the water run until it flowed over the sink onto the floor. Papa came in from drying the living room to water on the bathroom floor.

Later, after mama was home and sweet 3-and-a-half year old TQ was in the bath, he was telling her about his misadventures.

"How do you think Daddy felt when you did that?" she asked.
"Angry!" he replied with a wide smile.
"And how did you feel?"
"Happy!"
"Well, I hope this isn't going to happen again."
Big smile, "Oh, it will!"
"Really, were do you think you are going to do it next time?"
Bigger smile, "all over the bathroom floor!"

Tot Shabbat

2008-03-14T02:59:00.000-07:00

I've never been the "good Jew" in my family, but I've always loved the ancestral and familial traditions and was given a religious school education replete with Sunday school, Hebrew school, Bat Mitzvah and confirmation. I've struggled throughout my adult life to find my own truths in Judaism specifically and spirituality in general as I've tried to embrace the aspects that resonate deeply while holding aside the pieces that don't fit for me. Lately, as they tend to do, the children have drawn me back to the basics of my own childhood and shed a twinkling light on the rituals of Judaism.

We've returned to Tot Shabbat, a monthly Friday evening candlelighting "service" at our synagogue where the children are invited to sing, share in the handwashing and candlelighting, eat a yummy potluck and even run onto the bima. Our gifted, gracious and generous Rabbi Naomi wrote some Shabbat reflections to share with the congregation and the thoughts are too lovely not too share. She says...

Here are some suggestions for enjoying the Meals of Shabbat:

Imagine you are dining in the Garden of Eden
Avoid talking about work, money, politics or sad subjects
Meditate on your food as a gift from the Creator
Use a pleasant, quiet voice
Look at one another with soft eyes
Imagine the Shabbat table is the altar in the ancient Temple
Take breaks from eating to sing or learn Torah
Feel the presence of your ancestors celebrating Shabbat with you

We could all use a little more Shabbat in our lives!

swap anyone?

2008-03-09T22:37:00.000-07:00

We are excited about joining the little people's family swap. We'll get paired up with another family, get to make a fun activity-filled package for them, and we'll receive one for ourselves in the mail. How fun is that?

It sounds like there's still room if you want to check it out here.

We are working like mad to get our cooperative preschool off the ground. The city has "donated" a 300 square foot building to us, which means we get free rent for 5 years for renovating the building. The building permits are imminent, so we just need about $20,000 in the next 8 weeks. We had fun at a rummage sale this morning, where I know I contributed more than my share...kids aprons, backpacks, a sleeping bag AND all the supplies I need (wool cutouts and yarn) for knitting cozy baby booties.

More about our school--LUNA--to come.

remedial home-ec

2008-03-08T23:16:00.000-08:00

Well, the second bear is complete and so well loved. It is Miel's constant companion, along with her baby from Grandma. She sleeps with them both, they do a lot of smooching, and Miel says they are brother and sister as well as best friends.

forest sprites

2008-03-08T23:00:00.001-08:00

Saturday afternoon in the redwoods with Clairy-berry...We are so lucky!

ping pong!

2008-03-05T16:38:00.000-08:00

I have always loved ping pong. In our first house, we started with a ping pong table that spread over the pool table, quickly graduating to a stand-alone table. I remember many hours down in the basement, trying to hard to beat mom and dad, wondering when I could qualify for the Olympics. Wondering if there was a ping pong event in the Olympics.

Time went by. I've gone years at a time without playing, but anytime I see a table I can't wait to find a paddle partner to rally with. At OZ Farm, we had a good late-night thing going, forming alliances--slam it, girl, slam!--and working on the weaker aspects of all our games. I'd play in the barn after Steve and Isaiah had gone to sleep, with baby Miel in the sling.

There are few things that feel as good to me as a great ping pong rally. It's up there with snorkeling for being a "sport." Easy on the body, unwinding on the mind.

So when I saw a sign in town for a Ping Pong Tournament, I promptly signed myself up. As the day approached, I got a little nervous. What if I really sucked? What if people who played in tournaments were actually good and I was just a little good. Did I really want to find this out and shatter my illusions? Steve didn't make things any better when he asked me as I was leaving, "Are you bringing your own paddle? Balls?" "Whaaaaat? I'm not stopping at a store," I replied in my errand averse way.

So I showed up and it was cool. I had a lot of fun and ended up taking 2nd place...pretty satisfying, though of course I wanted to win. No one there ever expected I would do well, showing up with my knitting bag and looking like Mrs. Mom. And I didn't mention that I was a champion of the Dauphin Island Beer Pong tournament (or that I had to toss my cookies in the sand twice in order to get my non-drinker's body through the day). The 12-year-old kid told me point blank he hoped he would play me, rather than Guy 1 and Guy 2 because he wanted the easy match and knew he could take me. "Mmmm-hmmm," I smiled. "I hope we get to play each other, too."

What was really funny was that I was gone from the family from 12:30-5:30 on that Sunday afternoon, hanging out knitting, chatting and playing ping pong all day long. If I would have thought of it in those terms, I never would have let myself go. 5 hours? For ping pong? Too frivolous, I would have reasoned. I could have quality family time, clean my house, do yoga, do some work, start a project, work in the garden. Any number of "productive" things. But I chose to show up and see it through. I felt like I found my peeps, other people who love ping pong, of all things.

The pic is of me and the champ. I couldn't even get a game off him. I'll be a little better prepared next time, Jay! It's already on my calendar for next month.

get out and stay out!

2008-03-04T08:56:00.000-08:00

A report from the wild side...gone fishin', mud slinging, kale picking. Finally we stopped at our beloved CSA, Redwood Roots Farm and got to eat our brussels sprouts morsels off the stalk, pick collards to later stuff with "squealers" (the butcher's personal blend of elk, buffalo, pork and beef), rice and olives, and munch on all the kale we could eat.

No, a pastoral farm isn't wilderness, but it is a place where the children can run wild. The only rule, run between the rows, not on them. And be gentle with the plants that give us so much food. It was the first time we've been to a farm since moving and we were all so relieved by the smell of food growing in the soil. Isaiah says to me every other day, "Mama, I miss the goats." Me, too, buddy. We get to see goats around here, and cows and horses and chickens and ducks, but the experience of living with them and caring for them and receiving our daily milk from them is something we hope to create soon for ourselves again.

We're enjoying this beautiful spring weather in our little town yard. We planted our snap peas together and got some arugula and bitter salad mix in the ground. The daffodils are springing up and the trees in our neighborhood are bursting with pink blossoms. We find the wild in the pile of red worms in the compost pile and the big bay tree that looms over the footbridge down the street.

And yes, Isaiah has been really sweet as he's been exhausting himself in the agenda-free outdoors.

daily practice

2008-03-01T22:31:00.000-08:00

Gentle words, gentle voice...firm intention.

the call of the wild

2008-02-27T22:48:00.000-08:00

As we've settled back here in town, the laundry room and dishwasher have become familiar routines. Another chore in the rhythm of these very full and busy days. We spend as much of our days outdoors as possible, yet I keep wanting more. This evening, walking Belly, the stars were magnificent, even atop the glare of the streetlights. I imagined how they look in the dark of the farm.

I feel this pull toward the wild in the children, too. Isaiah has been acting out, mostly directly onto his little sister. Sure, he has a lot going on....his grandma and grandpa just left, he's got "potty power," he loves picking out his own clothes and putting them on himself, he prances on his two-wheeler like a prince on a steed. Could the changes in his behavior be all these 3-year-old landmarks or could he be experiencing a lack of the green absorbing sponge of the pastoral wilderness? I know, you ask, how could I even be thinking this? We don't live in Manhattan or San Francisco or even Portland. We are in Redwood Nation, home of rivers and beaches and all things green. And of course, it's developmental. But what I've noticed is that soft, misty, watery green absorbs this energy like a fairy waving her wand.

We've been very civilized this week. Playgrounds, the library, cafe lunch dates. We are outside a lot, but on the bike, scooter, at the playground, gymnastics class. Living on the farm I thought a lot about WILDNESS in our children and how misunderstood it can be. How often the term is used perjoratively..."That boy is wild," "Calm down, you are being so wild!" (said by me yesterday) But what could be better for our children than to live like weeds, like birds, like squirrels, like fish...getting dirty, getting wet, getting wild.

Tomorrow, I'm going to find some mud for us to wallow in. I'll report back.
"wild thing...you make my heart sing...you make everything...groovy...wild thing"

sewing!?!

2008-02-18T21:50:00.000-08:00

I just finished my first sewing project ever (unless you count that seal costume a few years back) and I can feel that creeping elation...like so many addictions, maybe the first time is the best. The rush of possibility that makes it so hard to focus because I just want to get going on the next project. Oh, the possibilities!

The exciting thing about this one is that it is actually really cute. That's reassuring for me since I'm so seduced by the beauty of materials--yarn, wood, shells, paint--and the process of the work itself, that I can be careless about the final product. Mama Rachel brought over beautiful wool felt that she had already cut and she invited Isaiah to choose where to place the eye buttons and vest decorations. Then I started stitching while he cut the thread for me. I was skeptical of my own abilities and didn't know I'd get through stitching around the whole thing, but here it is in front of me and I'm proud of my sweet little white bear with a pink vest and green tummy.

And my elation attracted a gifted sewing machine. Just like that! Now we'll see about this dreaded "threading the bobbin."

And about getting Miel's done, too. She loved the half-finished doll so much, she rocked it under her neck with it's skinny legs still split open. I don't want to give Isaiah his until hers is ready.

I hope winter lasts long enough to satisfy my craft fever!

blueberry smiles

2008-02-11T23:01:00.001-08:00

We're entering the "between times." Apples and pears have been in storage for a while now. They are alright, but lack the crisp brightness of the fruit fresh off the tree. We were drenched in navel oranges, satsumas, and meyer lemons, but now there's a better chance one from the batch will be a little dry, taste a little funny. Kiwis are still good. Bananas are a constant love, but this mama doesn't like to depend on a fruit from so far away. Strawberries and cherries are still a long way off, so we've come to explore the world of frozen fruit. These kids love their blueberries straight out of the freezer, in bright purple smoothies, in their water, their crepes, their pancakes. Isaiah, maybe reaping some of his mom's Chinese medicine teachings, insists on having his smoothies "warmed a little."

a scoop of frozen blueberries
some frozen banana
some liquid...milk, juice, rice milk, water

Isaiah presses the blender button and off we go...purple fun!

As soon as they finish, they're off to look at their faces in the mirror and play with warm soapy water in the bathroom sink.

The freezer, the blender...no, we're not at OZ Farm anymore.

Ode to Belly

2008-02-10T21:10:00.000-08:00

She is the one I sleep with every night. Even now, after my husband and 2 kids have joined the mix, we breathe and sigh and are comforted by the bulk of each other’s bodies through the covers. She’s the reason I haven’t even bothered to pick up the book I’ve seen at the library, Babyproofing Your Marriage. If your husband ends up sleeping with the kids because he doesn’t think there’s room for him with you and your dog, that book probably won’t offer much help.

She’s 13. Yes, she’s still around, I offer to those who are afraid to ask how she is for fear that she isn’t any longer. We’ve been together sharing dreams and thoughts for so long, we share hearts. We talk without words each morning and night…she reminding me to stay in the here and now, not dwelling on her incredibly cute puppyhood and or on a day she’ll no longer be with me. Me asking her how she feels, is she comfortable? Have a given her a good enough life?

When we met, it was love at first sight. At the beginning of a long winter, I was looking around for someone to keep my bed warm who wasn’t male and human. I met so many dogs during that “dating” phase, visiting shelters and encountering sweet, soft, hopeful. Some were possibilities, but none gave me “that special feeling.”

I walked into the San Francisco SPCA on a Sunday morning in December. The routine was familiar to me by now and I was prepared to be disappointed, open to being entertained. I walked in and there were a brother and sister puppy, 11 weeks old, being held by hopeful adopters. I took one look at Belly in the arms of a young woman and my heart melted open. “If there is a dog like that for that woman, “ I thought, “there is a dog out there for me, too.” This was the first and only pure selfless, abundant thought of my life. Immediately, the woman turned to me and smiled, “Do you want her?”

“D- d- don’t you?” I stammered. She explained that her friend who worked at the shelter called her because she had to come check out these adorable puppies, but she realized she wasn’t quite ready to adopt. I held Belly and she hugged me. They had a rule there where you couldn’t hold your dog as you went to sign the papers and pay and I had to go across the room and leave her while I waited in line and did the paperwork. She cried a high-pitched wail the whole time she was waiting in her cage and I now recognize that I ached for her as a mother aches for her crying babe.

During a 5-day “pregnancy” in which she was kept at the clinic and spayed, I rushed around preparing her nursery and getting her toys and bowls and a training book for me. Of course I didn’t need her bed, she slept with me.

And now five of us cuddle in two beds. A time lapse camera would show the comings and goings, but one of remains still and cozy all night long, the center of our merry-go-round….Belly.

At Home

2008-02-07T22:44:00.000-08:00

We’ve just returned to the house where both our children were born in the sweet small town in our progressive northern California community after living in a 20’ yurt on a pristine off-the-grid permaculture farm.” How does it feel?” friends ask. “Are you happy to be home?” My brain tries to wrap itself around my multifaceted responses to this seemingly simple question. Am I happy? Am I home? Where is home? Have we come home? And most burning of all, will I ever feel at home?

The things I know…

Our home feels like a mansion. Laundry room, dishwasher, upstairs and downstairs, laundry room, several rooms, two bathtubs, did I mention the laundry room? With a 3-year-old and a 19-month-old, I’m happy to be playing the role of Susie Homemaker, planning meals, using a fridge and freezer and full-size stove. Sometimes the hum of the dishwasher and clothes dryer together, playing along with good music from the Internet (I discovered Pandora.com after a year’s hiatus from anything but checking email once a week) sound like a soothing symphony of motherhood-in-control. Everything running, and according to plan. The floor swept each night, a load of laundry a day, clean diapers in their drawer, tomorrow’s snacks planned, and a craft activity ready for after breakfast.

These, of course, are the good days. The ones when I feel so blessed to spend all of each and every day with my kids, telling them all the while how special, sweet lovable they are. Then there are the days when, to paraphrase my cousin Candace, I spend the whole day trying not to hit them. Or have a spat with them. I’ve stormed out on Isaiah a few times lately, reminding myself of my mother’s slicing “Fine” when she doesn’t agree with my father and knows he’ll change his mind at her displeasure. The days when I’ve shaken my finger at Isaiah and said, “I don’t believe in spanking, but if you don’t…” He doesn’t seem upset. I don’t think he knows what spanking is. If I touch him roughly, he turns and says, “Stop, I don’t like that!” Damn, they learn fast!

For all the travails of my sweet easy boy turning this newly independent and often ornery 3-year-old creature, I’ve been aware since moving from the yurt of the ease of this kind of life. My friend Chas recently returned from India and, I don’t dare to suggest that life in Mendocino County is anything like India, we both did seem under the spell of the luxuries of mod-cons. So, yes, I’m enjoying them.

But I’m also so aware of the abundance of the truly simple life we were living. We were blessed, blessed, blessed by the most amazing food you could ever hope to eat on a daily basis. Harvesting our food each day from a lovingly tended organic farm, planted in harmony with the cycles of the moon in soil amended by a variety of long-tended composts. Finding fresh eggs each morning, milking goats and drinking the milk still warm, putting an astonishing array of “weeds” into our daily salads, regularly eating cheese made by a friend, lamb raised by a neighbor.

Most disturbing to my parents was our lack of indoor plumbing, but for me, going outside to pee in the middle of the night was like a surprise date with the moon. I got to glimpse her on the other side of the sky, clouds shifting, stars undiluted by an ambient light. To hear the roar of the ocean and no other hum or buzz, save the occasionally call of an owl, was to relax my ears completely. It was worth the occasional deluge when it was absolutely pouring at 3 am. And if it was really coming down, there was always Isaiah’s potty.

As one hopeful transplant to the area put it, he wanted to move to where real people are doing real things in real time. Such a full expression of life being lived to its fullest.

And yet, here I am, at home on my computer long after dark, when in the yurt, it would be too dark and cold to do anything other than sleep or lay in bed reading with the headlamp.

With my family on the east coast, my friends scattered far and wide, my brother 5 hours away, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel completely at home. If I stay here, I’ll be forever a visitor from the west coast. If I return east, I wonder if I can feel at home in the natural world and, after 17 years in California, “foreign” culture.

But I do know that this is the question life has offered to me to puzzle through. Everyone must have one. Mine has always been how to feel at home. In elementary school as the “practical one” (Kate Jackson) when I played Charlies’ Angels with my pretty friends. In high school, the partier among my gifted classmates and the nerd among the popular crowd I hung out with sometimes. In college, trying to find my place in such an overwhelming and ephemeral situation. In my body. In my family. In my relationship.

Certainly, being a mother is the closest I’ve ever come. My love for my kids is so unconditional, I know I’ll stay. I’m my most patient. (And my patience is most stretched.) My most selfless, creative, witty, giving. And I get a synched-up feeling as I listen to the hum of the appliances as I finish spraying the counters and sweeping the floor. And for a not at all neat or clean person like me, the fact that this could bring me some sense of peace is like a revelation.

Maybe that’s really the simple life. Feeling at home in your life.