aha moments.

wingman bought one of those old yellow sony walkmans on e-bay. you know the ones for playing  cassette tapes during some kind of activity. he's been waiting for days and this morning it came. he bought it because he has a box of old tapes. mostly mine. mostly mix tapes made for me.

"this is so much cooler than i expected, " he said.

i am drinking coffee. just drinking coffee and thinking about time.

"ooh, a box!" he just said. and put the box it came in on his head.

life takes a long time to live. and moment by moment it's the most fascinating. mainly because those moments get strung all together and lose their individuality in favor of the whole. and in the passing of time.

and then you look up. and in that moment it seems so all of a sudden that you have a 12 year old. and he's listening to your old a-ha tape on a sony walkman. with a box on his head.

and you're 42 years old.

and you remember getting that tape when you were 14.

but all those moments in between?

if only.

x.

redwood.

i am in a heap at the base of a redwood, next to a pool, and i am weeping. i am as small a ball as i can gather myself into, either from trying to escape the moving, slanting, baking sun or to go so far in i can't possibly be found. mostly both. i am trying not to cry loudly. i am breathing through my sobs. my limbs are all stacked and tangled. and that's when i notice, idly and with some surprise, how brown my skin has become in this sun. i haven't been this dark since i was girl.

and i am a girl again. my skin, my weeping. i am the saddest girl in the world.

we are here in the sun and the redwoods for some escape and relaxation. i am by the pool, and it is ringed with redwoods. i am swimming, i am happy, until i'm not.

there's a family gathering here. multi-generations. eating. drinking. swimming. being together. and that's when i go from a slightly damp 41 year old woman in a modestly cut bathing suit, sucking in my stomach with every walk to the pool, to the gasping for breath weepy little girl beneath the redwood tree.

grief just comes. one minute it's WHATEVER it is, and the next WITHOUT WARNING you get the sharp, involuntarily sucked in breath, followed by the sob-tinged shudder out. sometimes you go right to weeping, sometimes it's just tearing up and covering the sobs that don't come.

today, the sobs come.

i go to my three Fs. my father, my family, my farm. my father and my farm gone and not coming back. my family, so far away and i miss them. i miss them for me and for my kids.

some days you can rely on the grace gained through loss to keep yourself up. some days you've got to take the long way around.

it doesn't help that i'm sick. i woke up with a searing throat and a full throbbing head. i cobbled together a witches brew from what i brought and what i could find here and hoped for the best. it's easy to treat the symptoms, but when you're sick it's so hard to keep all things in check. you just have to let it work itself out.

and i'm crying not because i don't intellectually 'get' that what's gone is gone. changed. that that's the way the world works. that there is a blessing in this, here and there, and that moving forward brings its own rewards. i've lived with this long enough now that it's not about any of that anymore.

i'm crying because i just miss them so much. i miss my father. and i miss my house and my land and the ability to gather and celebrate the ones that i love the best. or even just like. i miss my family, closer, but still not within dinner at my house distance. my heart feels at once heavy with loss and too light with the time and distance of it all.

the sun has shifted and i'm in all shade now.  i sit up. i look across the pool. i don't want to resent the family gathered there. i really don't want to be that person. but right now, i am the one they made that broke the mold of that very.fucking.person.

i sit in resentment and memory and tears. i don't want to be sick. i don't want to be here. i mean i want to be *here* with the redwoods and the pool and the sun. i don't want to be here in this place. the place where grief will bring you. and like illness you just have to let it work itself out. it's mind boggling how much a heart can handle, and how patient a heart can become.

i dry my eyes and blow my nose. the boys are off getting food to bring back. they'll be here soon. i drink some water and put my sunglasses on. i try not to look like i've been crying. not because i don't want to show them my grief, they've seen it. they know it exists. they grieve, too. in their own ways. we have made room for grief (and celebrating the goods that came before. we can do that now.) it's not that, it's that i don't want to share my grief. not right now.

sometimes when you're feeling a loss, again, out of the blue, for the the millionth time, sometimes it's nice to just hold it to yourself. lest you share it and lose more. i know this makes no sense, but sometimes it's comforting to be in that room with the single chair. to hold on to that little bit for yourself, even though it's sad, just because you can. i blow my nose again and if they ask i plan to tell them it's the book i'm reading, that the chlorine is bothering my eyes and my nose. that my voice is thick with the illness i'm now suffering.

as it turns out my husband returns to the pool, the boys off to the cool of the room. and he has brought me soup. somehow, in this tiny river town on a day that's nearing 100 degrees this man has managed to find the one thing i want the most right now. in the immediate. my little wrung out heart starts to swell with love and gratitude. it's miso soup. and it's good. i take a few more sips and then i lean back in the lounge chair.

and because i'm "lucky" to be so far out from total fresh loss my grief can be nudged gently aside by the magic that is something warm and good from a bowl, placed in your hands by someone you love.

i keep sipping and i can feel the light peeking through the dark. the shift that comes, luckier still when you can feel it. i feel it. i look across the pool, at the family. i think about how nice it must be for them. "not" snarkily. this time. but how truly nice it must be. they seem to be enjoying themselves. there's a young and obviously adored granddaughter. lots of aunts and uncles and cousins. some recently graduated high schoolers. their excitement and optimism infuses the gathering. there's an air of celebration and cohesiveness. they are happy here. together.

i smile. and i think how fun it would be if my own extended family were gathered here. or a place like this. low key, relaxing. how maybe we could do something like this. sometime soon. i think about how fun it would have been to have had a pool at the farm. and i think about how much my father loved the redwoods. and this little neck of the world. how pleased he would be that i bring my own kids here.

and it's not the musings of what-ifs from a sad passing and passed past. just the maybes of a life lived, and one to be lived. the maybes of a (sometimes teary) eye towards the future.

and that's life, and grief, turning on a dime. again. so it goes.

i sink down gratefully into the lounge chair and stretch out my legs. i sip my soup and close my eyes.

wondering wondering wondering.


x.

in the kitchen with sillymortalmama: PASTA!

THIS is no ordinary pasta. it's technically called Strangozzi con Salsa di Mandorle e Bietole but *i* like to call it 'how to get your family to eat TWO POUNDS OF GREENS WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING IT.' now, i'm not one to *sneak* things into food and trick people into eating them, but when starting to cook with more greens some years ago i had to find clever ways to serve those greens. and by clever i mean in a way THEY WOULD ACTUALLY GET EATEN.

this recipe does just that. this is a wonderful platter of pasta. i make it a LOT. it is so delicious and healthy and completely restaurant worthy. even my most dedicated NON lover of greens will eat it up. it makes quite a bit (the beauty of pasta, no?) looks great on the table and tastes just as good the next day. so it's great for family and leftovers or company with candles and wine. though who says you have to wait for company to enjoy candles and wine?

i will say that the dish takes some time and a few steps. it's not a difficult recipe, but you don't just whip it up. but keep reading and check it out before you click away. you WILL NOT be disappointed. i promise.

this recipe comes directly (with a few adaptions for clarity from me) from the book Lidia Cooks From the Heart of Italy by Lidia Bastianich. this is a GREAT cookbook. i've always enjoyed watching her somewhat homespun and down to earth cooking show (PBS), but i was initially put off by her books because she uses SO MANY ingredients and the recipes seemed so fussy. after i really started reading the recipes i began to appreciate the style in which they were written. she really wants you to be familiar and choosy with your ingredients. appreciate them. she doesn't want you to grab two cloves of garlic, she wants you to grab two cloves of PLUMP garlic. she wants you to mentally picture and place those ingredients in your brain and feel them in your hand and really know what you're going for when you put them in your dish. now i love reading her recipes because it feels familiar, like a beloved auntie or grandma leaning over your shoulder, their voice in your ear talking you through. teaching you the secret of the recipe. those special touches we may forget to think are important. 'The garlic must be plump, the mint leaves fresh.'

and i promise, once you get used to her style, assemble your ingredients, and take the time to follow the steps it's not that daunting AND they are such flavorful and fresh recipes it's well worth it! i've seen all her books available at the library. if you're interested in healthy and flavorful and authentic italian food you should definitely check them out!

Strangozzi with Chard & Almond Sauce
Strangozzi con Salsa di Mandorle e Bietole
serves 6

This is a fresh and extremely flavorful preparation for strangozzi. The dressing has two components, tender cooked Swiss chard and an uncooked pesto of fresh basil and mint leaves and toasted almonds. (Other leafy greens, such as spinach, chicory, and arugula, could be used, and walnuts could replace the almonds, but the recipe here is true to the Umbrian region.) It is best to prepare the greens and pesto shortly before you cook and serve the pasta, but if you follow the recipe steps, the dish is actually quite quick-cooking and simple. It is only the multitude of tastes and textures that are complex and tantalizing!

For the chard and pesto
2 pounds Swiss chard
1 cup loosely packed fresh basil leaves
¼ cup loosely packed fresh mint leaves
4 plump garlic cloves- 2 crushed and peeled, and 2 peeled and thinly sliced
10 TBS extra-virgin olive oil
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
⅓ cup sliced almonds, toasted
½ tsp. peperoncino flakes, or to taste *(HA! these are just red pepper flakes. ask me sometime about the odyssey of figuring that out)

For Cooking and Finishing the Pasta
12 ounces to 1 pound Strangozzi (or any other wide pasta, fettuccine, etc.)
1 cup freshly grated Grana Padano or Parmigiano-Reggiano, plus more for passing
Extra-virgin olive oil, best-quality for finishing

For the chard and pesto: Bring a large pot of well-salted water (at least 6 quarts with 1 TBS salt) to the boil. As it heats, rinse and drain the chard leaves, and cut off the stems; if the central rib of the leaf is thick and tough, cut it out. (Save the trimmings for stock.) Pile up the leaves, and slice them crosswise into strips about 1 inch wide.

When the water's boiling, heap all the chard into the pot and stir, submerging the strips. Return the water to the boil, and cook the chard until tender to the bite, about 10 minutes. With a spider or other strainer, lift out the chard strips, and drop them into a colander. Turn off the heat, but SAVE the potful of hot water for cooking the strangozzi/pasta.

When the chard has drained and cooled a bit, squeeze the strips by handfuls, pressing out the liquid. Loosen the clumps, and pile the strips in the colander.

To make the herb-and- almond pesto: Put into the food-processor bowl the basil and mint leaves, the CRUSHED garlic cloves, 3 TBS of the olive oil, and 1 tsp. salt. Process to a chunky paste, about 10 seconds, then drop in the toasted almonds and process again for 10 seconds, or until you have a smooth bright-green paste.

Pour the remaining 7 TBS of olive oil into the big skillet, and set it over medium-high heat. Scatter in the SLICED garlic, and cook for a minute or so, until it's sizzling. Drop in the chard strips, season with peperoncino and the remaining 1/2 tsp. salt, and stir the chard around the pan. Ladle in 1/2 cup of hot water from the pot where the chard was blanched, add to the chard, and bring it to a boil. Cook rapidly for a couple of minutes, until the water has reduced by half, then lower the heat so the greens are barely simmering.

For cooking and finishing the pasta: Meanwhile, bring the chard cooking water back to a rolling boil. Drop all the pasta into the pot, stirring and separating the strands. Cook the strangozzi/pasta to package specifications for al dente (but just barely), stirring occasionally.

With a spider and tongs, quickly lift out the strangozzi/pasta, drain for a moment, and drop them into the skillet with the simmering chard. Toss them together quickly, and spread all of the herb-almond pesto on top. Rinse out the food-processor bowl with 1/2 cup or so of hot water from the big pot, and pour that in with the pasta. LOWER THE HEAT, toss the pasta, the chard, and the pesto together for a minute or two, until the strangozzi/pasta is all coated with the dressing and perfectly al dente. If the dressing is soupy, reduce it quickly over high heat; if it's too dense, thin it with more pasta water.

Turn off the heat, sprinkle a cup or so of grated cheese over the strangozzi/pasta, and toss well. Finish with a drizzle of olive oil, toss again, and heap the pasta in warm bowls. Serve immediately, with more cheese at the table.

COOK'S NOTES:

 *she has a separate recipe for homemade strangozzi that she includes with this recipe. i'm not set up for fresh pasta making so i buy mine. if you are interested, check out her book.

*depending on the pasta i use it's between 12 and 16 ounces. both amounts work with the amount of sauce. i like fresh pasta for this recipe, but i have used dried in both regular or whole grain. i find it hard to find good whole grain pasta in a wider noodle (A MUST for even sauce distribution) so i often just use regular because there are many more size options. whatever you choose, just be sure to cook the pasta according to the package for al dente but JUST SHY OF THAT. after it boils the pasta will be tossed over heat and will continue to cook so you don't want it too done before that.

*along those lines, don't overcook your chard. really the 10 minutes is a guideline. 'tender to the bite' means it needs to retain its integrity a bit. don't cook it until it's all mushy. if you're at all worried, taking it off heat and out of the pot TOO EARLY is better than too late.

*DO NOT FORGET to NOT pour out the cooking water for the chard. like don't just drain the chard into a colander and the cooking water into the sink. the cooking water is an important part of the continued recipe and becomes a flavor component to the dish.

*if you think you are tossing a lot to get the sauce all distributed you ARE. but don't worry, just keep tossing. you'll get there. i do a 'toss and spread, toss and spread' kinda groove and it seems to work. and this is where NOT overcooking your greens earlier comes in handy. overcooking you make them clumpy and mushy and hard to toss and distribute.

*i know this seems like a LOT but it really isn't. and is worth it. i promise.

enjoy!

x.

in the kitchen with sillymortalmama: PAD THAI SALAD!

this is so good and so healthy PLUS it's got ALL the flavors of pad thai so you can totally indulge! this is one of the duke's (not a vegan by the way) favorite dishes and i make it A LOT. always good. never fails.

i generally make this as a complete meal (there's a lot on the plate) when everyone's in the mood for a lighter, healthier dinner (@280 calories and 13 grams protein per serving). but i've also been known to throw oven roasted shrimp or tofu on top if we need/want something more substantial. the book has a few tofu recipes that are DELICIOUS and would accompany this dish quite nicely. if you are at all interested in interesting vegan recipes you should check it out.

the book in question is a great vegan cookbook called Appetite for Reduction by Isa Chandra Moskowitz. some of you may know her from The Post Punk Kitchen online, or the books Vegan with a Vengeance, Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World, Vegan Cookies Take Over Your Cookie Jar, and Veganomicon. coming or going she has your vegan needs COVERED.

before we start i want to say that the dressing is THIN (she mentions it in the recipe but it bears repeating). like you're making it and thinking damn! this dressing is *thin.* shh shhh just go with it. it does seems too thin but it's not. trust me. it's like that for the tossing and the overall lightness of the dish. so while it SEEMS LIKE IT WILL NEVER WORK OH MY GOD TURN BACK! TURN BACK! it will. work. trust. me.

Pad Thai Salad
from Appetite for Reduction
serves 4

8 cups chopped romaine lettuce
4 cups bean sprouts
1 small red onion, sliced thinly
1 medium-size carrot, peeled and grated
1 recipe Peanut-Lime Dragon Dressing (recipe follows)
1/4 cup roasted peanuts
1/2 cup lightly packed fresh cilantro (stem and leaves)
lime wedges for serving
 
In a large mixing bowl, toss together the lettuce, sprouts, red onion, and carrot.  Add the dressing and toss to coat.  Distribute the salad among four bowls.  There will be dressing left over because it is fairly thin; distribute the dressing among the bowls.  Garnish with roasted peanuts and cilantro, and serve with the lime wedges.

Peanut-Lime Dragon Dressing

1/4 cup roasted peanuts
2 TBS chopped shallot
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice
1/2 cup water
2 TBS agave nectar
2 TBS soy sauce
1 tsp Sriracha, or more if you like it hot

Pulse 2 tablespoons of the peanuts and all of the shallot in the food processor, just to chop everything up.  Add the lime juice, water, agave, soy sauce, and Sriracha, and blend until very smooth.  Use a rubber spatula to scrape down the sides a few times.  Now add the remaining 2 tablespoons of peanuts and pulse for a bit.  These shouldn’t be blended smooth, just chopped up small.  The dressing will be fairly thin.  Adjust the seasonings to your liking.  Keep refrigerated in a tightly sealed container until ready to use, up to 5 days.

COOK'S NOTES:

*you don't need a food processor for the dressing, i use the blender and it works just fine. just scrape the sides and stir up the bottom to make sure everything gets blended well.

*you can use salted, low salt, no salt, dry roasted, raw WHATEVER peanuts you want, but they have to be roasted. either by the roasting fairies before you get them or by you. someone has to roast the doggone peanuts or they just don't blend or taste the same.

*this can make more than 4 servings if it's more of a side dish. (if you're using all the salad USE ALL THE CILANTRO AND PEANUTS TOO). you can also store leftovers (if you have them) if you don't dress ALL the salad at once. dress and toss each serving individually so if there are leftovers you can store them separately and make a fresh, non-soggy salad the next time. whether or not i know i'll have leftovers i dress and toss each salad individually anyway as it helps distribute the dressing more evenly.

*do not chop the cilantro!!! use it whole to add on top. and i know she uses the word garnish, but it is NOT a garnish in the it's just there to look pretty kinda way. it is very integral to the overall flavor of the salad so don't be shy! and don't forget the lime wedges. do not. really.

enjoy!

x.

in the kitchen with sillymortalmama: TOFU & PEPPERS!

okay i LOVE this dish. my family LOVES it. anyone who has ever had it LOVES IT. even people who do not love tofu LOVE it.

i know what you're thinking: tofu. hooray. well knock that off and prepare to be DELIGHTED. because in just a minute i will tell you HOW to do that tofu so it's not so 'tofu-y.'  this is a great dish for a regular weekday dinner or entertaining. you can serve it as is or over rice or soba noodles or whatever you prefer. it tastes great the next day (though there are rarely leftovers) and can be cut in half or doubled or...

and when you see all the jalapenos DO NOT FEAR. not all jalapenos are spicy. or hot. i swear. some jalapenos have about as much spice as a post surgery liquid diet. regarless of heat they still have flavor, though. what you need to do is get a mess of jalapenos for the recipe and taste them. are they too spicy for you? then dial back and sub in some poblano/pasilla peppers (sub in half as many though as they are bigger than jalapenos). or use less of the jalapenos and more of the red bell pepper. or, are your peppers not spicy enough? then do the full order of jalapenos and add in a serrano.

regardless of heat i generally sub in some poblanos/pasillas because i like the two different shades of green in the dish AND i like the differing pepper flavors. just do a little pepper recon before and you'll be fine. trust me.

whatever you do PLEASE use at least SOME jalapenos. they really are terrific and make the dish.

okay. the tofu. after you cut your tofu put it in a bowl. pour boiling salted water over it and let sit 15 minutes. drain and pat dry. proceed with recipe. TRUST ME. this will render you tofu that is ready to be devoured. 

whatever you do PLEASE use extra-firm tofu. if you do not have extra-firm tofu GET SOME. if you think to yourself, ah well it's all the same and try some other kind of tofu THEN DO ME A FAVOR AND DON'T TELL ANYONE YOU GOT THE RECIPE FROM ME.

this recipe comes from the website herbivoracious and the book of the same name by Michael Natkin. i've adapted it here. adjust to your own servings and tastes accordingly.

Tofu and Peppers
by Michael Natkin (adapted by x.)
Vegetarian, vegan, gluten free and kosher
Serves 4

• 1 teaspoon cornstarch
• 1/2 cup tamari (gluten-free if needed) or other soy sauce
• 4 teaspoons sugar
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
• 1 pound extra-firm tofu cut into 1/2″ cubes
• 8 jalapeno peppers (or 4 jalapenos and 2 poblanos/pasillas or 2 and 4 or...)
• 1 red bell pepper
• 8 scallions, trimmed and cut into 1″ lengths
• 4 tablespoons vegetable oil

*Cut the tofu and put it into a heat proof bowl. Pour boiling salted water over to cover and let soak for 15 minutes.

*Put the cornstarch in a small bowl.  Drizzle in the tamari (I use soy sauce) while whisking until all lumps are gone. Whisk in the sugar, garlic and sesame oil. Taste and adjust the seasoning of the sauce.

*Lay the tofu out in a single layer on a clean, absorbent towel and pat dry. 

*Preferably wearing disposable gloves, cut the top off of each jalapeno pepper and cut in half lengthwise. Use a teaspoon to remove the seeds and ribs. Cut each half pepper crosswise. (If using other peppers cut into the same size as the jalapenos.) Remove the stem, seeds and rib from the bell pepper and cut into pieces about the same size as the quartered jalapeno.

*Heat the oil in a large cast iron skillet or wok over high heat. Pat the tofu dry one more time and fry in a single layer, tossing occasionally until golden brown, about 3 minutes. Remove the tofu to a plate and leave the skillet on. (I usually need to do the tofu in batches so I don't crowd the pan and the sides cook evenly.)

*Add the jalapeno/peppers, bell pepper and scallion and stir fry over high heat until the colors brighten, about 1 minute. Add the tofu back in, then add the sauce. Quickly stir and fry just long enough to reheat the tofu and cook the cornstarch sauce, about 30 seconds. 

*Transfer to a serving bowl or platter and serve immediately.

Serve with rice or soba noodles or as is.

enjoy! 

x.

in the kitchen with sillymortalmama: CHILI!

okay, so i'm starting off this week of plant based cooking and recipes SUPER DUPER easy. i know i know you're all like CHILI? snooze. i will admit it seems like kind of a 'cheat' to me to include it, but this is a wonderfully delicious and hearty vegan chili and you should have it in your arsenal of recipes! if you're a meat eater don't start rolling your eyes and clicking away!!! i promise you the finished dish belies the simplicity of the recipe. and it is so good with more complex layers of flavor than you might be used to with *just* a bean chili that it will have ALL the eaters you know asking for seconds. it's easy enough for younger and new cooks, plus it tastes even better the next day and it makes a TON. so that means it's good for a crowd, pre-cooking for a party, for the week, leftovers for another recipe (tacos, enchiladas, topped with a fried egg for breakfast), or for freezing.

i do need to mention that it can be a *bit* spicy depending on the intensity of your chili powder, how much cayenne you're used to using, and the size of your jalapeno (that's what she said.). i will say that the spice is a key component of the finished dish, especially as the flavors meld over a day or so. we do full spice, but feel free to adjust accordingly. you're not going to ruin it by going less spicy.

also, this recipe uses TVP which is textured vegetable protein. it's totally old school that way and i'm not, as a rule, a fan of analog meats. BUT it really works in this recipe and can be the tie that binds your reluctant meat eaters to it! i've never eliminated it but if you want to eliminate it go ahead. just skip the TVP and water step and move forward. though i will say you might want to dial back the spices a bit for the substitution. the TVP adds volume to the dish and eliminating it means you'll be tweaking the amount of spices to compensate for the loss of volume.

this recipe comes from 150 Vegan Favorites by Jay Solomon and we have been making it for well over a decade. my mother in law has the book and i copied the recipe from her after she made it for us. so FYI this is a typed out copy of a handwritten copy of the original. and, it's the only dish in the book i've made so i can't vouch for any of the rest of the recipes he has.

Vegan Chili

1 TBS canola oil
1 small yellow onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, seeded & minced
2 large garlic cloves, minced
1 large jalapeno or serrano pepper, seeded & minced
1 cup TVP (textured vegetable protein)
1 cup water
1 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes
1 15 oz can kidney beans, drained & rinsed
1 14 oz can stewed tomatoes
1 1/2 TBS chili powder
2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground cayenne
1/2 tsp. salt

Heat the oil in a medium-large pot over medium heat. Add the onion, bell pepper, garlic, and the jalapeno/serrano, cooking and stirring about 5 minutes.

Add the TVP and water, turn heat to medium-low, and cook 5 minutes more stirring occasionally.

Add in both cans of tomatoes, the beans, chili powder, cumin, cayenne, and salt and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat.

Reduce heat back to medium-low and cook for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Serve with tortillas or cornbread and top with (though it's delicious enough without); chopped onions, grated cheese, avocado, cilantro, sour cream, etc.

Cook's notes:

*canned beans and tomatoes make this a super easy and convenient recipe to make and taste delicious! i do want to note that in the interest of overall sodium intake and the worry of the safety of canned tomatoes (google it) i will say we use beans cooked from dried when we have them left over and tomatoes packaged in glass jars or a tetra pak box. they work just as well and i just adjust for the stewed tomatoes (not easy to find unless canned) by adding in a pinch of sugar. the salt in the recipe factors in the sodium content of the canned products so if you use fresh cooked beans and don't add the can of stewed tomatoes you might want to add in just a bit more salt at the end of cooking to adjust for the substitutions. taste and see.

*i'm finding it harder to find TVP much any more. when we can't find it we buy a bag of frozen 'ground' Quorn at whole foods. just add it in frozen when you're supposed to add in the TVP and ELIMINATE THE CUP OF WATER then continue the recipe as written.

enjoy!

x.

teach your children well and let the rest go.

recently wingman made a decision that disappointed the husband and me. mainly because it was our own goals and ideas for him that seemed to be tossed aside. he was fine and more than happy with his decision, relieved. we were not. so much.

the thing is, wingman is naturally good at a LOT of things. way more than me, way more than anyone in this house. he has a beautiful singing voice, he's a talented artist, he's got a gift for the piano, he's a really good baseball player. he is smart. i mean, i'm not even bragging. oh he's not a prodigy or some kind of artistic genius, he's just good at a lot. and yet, well...he doesn't want to pursue *any* of it. not with classes or lessons or teams.

and frankly, at 12, he's past the age where i can *make* him. not that i forced him before, but there was a natural progression of music lessons and art lessons and baseball as part of home school curriculum and just participating in something outside of the house.

the reason why i was disappointed really boiled down to convenience. this is something he just always did. was good at. was a natural built in out of the house experience. a chance to mix with peers. etc. etc. etc. and having moved to a new place where there isn't a lot going on for home schooled kids his age (we should have moved to where the 'real' hippies live. wealthy 'hippies' don't home school.) this was going to be a no brainer for me. his mama. looking for anything to supplement our home schooling and glad for this.

only, wingman doesn't want to do it. he's over it. he's done.

and much to my chagrin, i had to accept that.

i spent two days being very disappointed even as he was smiling and relieved.

and besides the built in convenience of this out of the house activity DASHED, i couldn't quite figure out why it peeved me so much. this decision of his.

and then i figured it out.

OH MY GOD WINGMAN IS GOING TO GROW UP AND DO...NOTHING.

i had this real fear that my sweet talented intelligent boy wasn't going to do...anything. with his life. that he lacked the motivation to pursue his interests and talents. that he lacked drive. ambition. and let's face it, that he would end up living in someones basement (probably ours) with marginal employment and not enough sun. and be perfectly happy doing so.

and WHO'S FUCKING FAULT WOULD THAT BE!?

mine. because he's home schooled i have no one to blame these things on as they get older. i mean i don't generally look at things to place fault, but let's face it...if my home schooled kid ends up living in a basement with not enough sun and hobbies that involve only the computer then i'm screwed in the reputation department. (wouldn't be the first time. but still.)

i fretted and worried. every walk i took with the husband was a verbal tirade of how i must have failed him! why doesn't he want to do *anything*? he's so talented, the little snot! blah blah blah.

we were walking home from the library and i turned to the husband and screeched

"what if he ends up like one of those guys! you know the type. they live in a basement. they barely have a job. they come to family gatherings, hang out awhile, and that's like their ONLY source of social interaction. i just know he'll live in that basement with a bunch of dogs and his video games and BE COMPLETELY HAPPY! WHAT IF THAT HAPPENS!?!"

and then i heard a little voice.

'what. if.'

i didn't hear it on that walk or even that day. i heard it later. just...'what if.'

i have always said the only thing i truly want for my children is that they be happy. i don't mean 'happy' like OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT RAINBOW I'M SO HAPPY! because i get that that can be it's own 'thing.' unattainable to some. unreliable. i myself cannot claim the title of happy. what a loaded word. i am content, though. i love my life. so i guess i just mean happy as in content. pleased. living a life that gives them peace and joy. a life they like. all those things that blend to make up this word 'happy'. even though there's got to be a better less loaded word for that feeling.

that's all i've wanted for them. so...what if. what if wingman doesn't do a thing with all that he is gifted with. what if he doesn't want to pursue higher education or higher study (which really is an option in this house, but an option the boys know is a good one for their future.) what if he's content to work a job and just be in the world. come to family gatherings and just be. what if he isn't the kid with the long list of accomplishments i can pull out and pass around when i'm feeling vulnerable in a social situation.

what if he goes on to have a life that DOES NOT cause people to say 'you must be so proud' and mistakenly credit me with all that he's become. because he's my son. because i home schooled him.

not that i'm that mama, but we all have that deep inside. that thing about our kids. 

what if.

what if he's just wingman.

and i realized oh my god. of course. of course this would be okay. because wingman is sweet and funny and charming and snarky. he's a joy to be around and likes to cook. he's compassionate and kind to animals. he feels the injustice of the world on such a personal level. and he is incorruptible. UN-bribable (i know. i've tried.) he's truly his own person on such a level that i don't comprehend it.

so he's living in a basement with a bunch of dogs. and completely happy doing so. my point, exactly? i'm worried about...what, exactly?

exactly.

plus. he's 12. he's not done. what he is today, eschewing all that is possible for him in pursuing his gifts and talents in favor of just kicking about, is what he is today. it's not what he will always be. it's easy to look at our kids and see their whole entire lives. OH MY GOD i can see the basement! i can smell the dogs! when really it's just one day...a week...a month...it's just a bit of time. this time. right now.

i would do well to remember all of this. that i have been and am teaching him well. that has to count for something. and that my idea or his father's idea or the world's idea of 'success' is ridiculous when applied to an individual person.

it's so easy to tell our growing children what they should do. and how what they are choosing not to do will negatively impact them. to give them all the WHYS without exploring all of the what ifs.

when wingman got to make that decision, all on his own, he knew it was a disappointment. he knew we wanted him to do it. he knew we left it up to him. and he made the decision. and was finally relieved for the first time in days.

as parents our job eventually becomes that of supporter rather than scheduler and herder. our job that was so hands on before requires now more than a bit of sitting on those same hands. our job of verbalizing the musts and redirecting the 'bad' decisions gives way to learning how to slowly close the mouth when it flies open, and instead quickly open the ears. and the heart. and THE FAITH. the skills we had for babies and toddlers and kids are different than those we must hone as parents of adolescents and teenagers and young adults.

do i like this? no. will i do it? yes. will wingman end up in that basement? maybe. will that be okay?

absolutely.

will i still worry? OH HELL YEAH.  i will worry about him for all my life. because he's my baby. and that's okay. but i'm going to worry with faith. and the knowledge that he got a great start and will be able to figure the rest out as he goes. and that eventually, one day, wither he goeth, i will not go.

and that's the hardest part. and the most necessary.

x.

in memory of a friend.

bill and i went to high school together. but it wasn't until our 20th reunion that we became friends.

the night before the reunion there was a backyard party hosted by our mutual friend, fern. that's where i bumped into him. literally. i turned around and bill took a red solo cup to the well dressed wrist. i was embarrassed and shooting my apologies a mile a minute, he was chuckling and nonchalant about it. while mopping up we got to talking. and hands down had one of the better conversations i'd had not only that weekend, but in some time.

i'm a stay at home mom. i home school. the minute people hear this *i* can hear their eyeballs fighting to not roll back in their heads. i am patronized at best. sometimes people struggle for even the slightest kind thing to say.  like when you hear someone sincerely profess their love of dressing cats. mostly the conversation gets changed and the room scanned for an out.

not bill. he seemed genuinely interested. he asked me questions and listened to the answers. i was impressed not only because i was well aware of his vast intellect and genius, but that he was so damned sincere. we were chatting away so much that a half an hour passed before i knew it. and in my typical subdued style i whacked him on the shoulder and said

'OH MY GOD! i like you SO MUCH!'

(to his credit he didn't run away screaming. he just chuckled.)

then i said

'how come we didn't know each other in high school?!'

to which he replied in a very matter of fact way

'umm, we had classes together every single year.'

oh. right.

along with being a klutz and a brute, there's my memory; not so good.

anyway the rest of the weekend i ended up spending more time with bill and other friends. and found in bill a kind, funny, and hilarious new friend. funny on purpose, and sometimes funny like the straight man to chaos. and i won't go into detail in order to protect those who are way more than old enough to know better, but it is fair to say some of the best times i spent that weekend included bill in the mix. and it is also fair to say they were totally judd apatow worthy moments. seriously. it's always those quiet genius types you have to watch out for.

i saw bill again the next year at a mutual friend's wedding in portland. he met my kids and my husband. he told me he was charmed by my kids. and he and my husband were like two geeks in a pod bound for verbal destinations unknown and not understood by me. or anyone else at the table. but boy, they seemed to be basking in whatever the hell they were talking about. 

and that's where my point and remembrance comes in, i guess. about bill. whom, admittedly, i didn't know well. but see, watching him talk with my husband and watching him talk with my kids and with anyone and with me, what struck me most about him and what drew me to him was his presence. i know people always use that phrase 'in the moment.' but i have to say, i saw that on bill's face. that cold rainy portland afternoon...the talk in the backyard...other times catching a glimpse over a long weekend surrounded by the people who for better or worse shaped a good deal of who you became. or in more than a lot of cases tried to shed.

the thing about bill is that he listened. he heard. and he responded. and he was genuinely interested and intelligent enough to get to whatever level you were at. higher (rarely, i'm sure) or lower or in between, it didn't matter. he could and would get there. he was curious and willing and open. and this may not seem like much to some, but to the person being listened to it might as well as be a superpower. he wasn't checking his watch, his device, or scanning the room above your head. he was there. right there, his head slightly cocked and gently pitched forward, his eyes on yours while you blathered on about whatever. it was if all bill had right in the moment you were with him was time. for you. and what you had to say. this is so simple and so rare as to be totally and completely remarkable. and memorable.

i have two boys. and i would be more than proud to know that they grew up to be so present with others. that they might use whatever intelligence and curiosity they possess to be able to apply that anywhere. and to anyone.

the rest of my friendship with bill was one of the ubiquitous facebook kind, some messages, some e-mails, etc. and while i didn't know bill well, i considered him a friend. and looked forward to another time we'd get to hang out. maybe another reunion, another wedding. perhaps, unfortunately, a funeral. places people in our time of life and our kind of friendship might meet up.

so when i heard bill had passed i was shocked, and genuinely sad. all my little family was. i told the boys and they said 'oh no! i liked him so much!' now bear in mind, this was a man they met along with so many other people one rainy afternoon three years ago. they were 9 and 13 at the time. and they remembered him. they didn't ask 'who?' they remembered exactly who. and that's something right there. that's bill.

and in this life i find that it's rare to meet someone like bill. unexpected. like a gift. and what a wonderful gift he was to those who knew him.

i am going to miss bill. so i can only imagine how those he knew well must feel. those he was closest to; family, dear friends, loved ones. those who he loved and cared for and who loved and cared for him back. 

it is to those people bill was closest to i send my deepest condolences. and i am so very very sorry for their incredible loss.

blessings,

x.

beauty and the beast (within).

what if for just one minute a day we looked in the mirror and saw ourselves EXACTLY how the people who love us see us?

any KIND of love us: marital, sexual, romantic, familial, parental, platonic, unrequited, puppy, professional...

what if for just one measly minute a day we looked in the mirror and instead of cataloging all of our faults and flaws and counting up all the wrinkles and wrongs we saw ourselves NOT as we have convinced ourselves we are? or how society at large sees us? but instead for that one moment we see what those who love us see?

i wonder.

x.

narrow escape.

people like me do not belong in malls.

people prone to crabbiness and snarky thoughts about the masses.

malls bring out the worst in me.

you know, like how some people can't drink tequila. or be married. ever.

normally i can be bop through a bad hair day or bad fashion week and be totally fine with it. this is who i am, i say. this is how i'm comfortable, i say.

but when i hit the mall it's all over. it's like the 'You are here' sign is following me. blinking its message above my head. on a continual loop.

YOU LOOK OLD.

YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO TIE A SCARF.

YOU SHOULD WEAR DARKER JEANS.

DANIEL CRAIG WILL NEVER LOVE YOU.

i don't know if it's the total sensory overload, but i know that has A LOT to do with it. malls used to be kind of cohesive. every store front vaguely similar. they had that sort of institutional look about them. not so anymore. i mean every single store has a different sight a different smell a different sound from the one before. it's completely overwhelming. please remind me to never travel to hong kong. i don't know if my poor heart could take it.

and i don't get it. all that stuff. where does it come from? where does it go? how do you even know where to *start*?

inexplicably the escalator is round in the mall i was in. it keeps circling around and around and going to different floors. then it ends in nordstrom. like you get off the escalator and you're in the middle of a store. how is that secure? i wonder. how can you just have a store right there, will all that merchandise, and an easy escape? security must be on edge all the time. the whole thing makes me nervous.

and you know i can get lost going straight. so put me in a mall. yeah. with all those floors and round escalators ending in the middle of stores and all that artificial light and recycled air and oh my god. and since when do they have fancy restaurants with bars in a mall? good to know though, you know...for emergencies. 'no. no. just leave me. save yourselves. i'll be at the bar.'

so then you get to that weird part of the mall. where it's less crowded, deserted really. with the weird stores that no one seems to be in. the one department store that no escalator would be caught dead ending in. and no lounging furniture. kind of a no man's land. and of COURSE that's when i have to pee.

and maybe i've been watching too many episodes of 'monk' but that hallway to the bathroom looks like the perfect place to commit a crime. against me.

i just want to pee. i don't want to die. 

the hallway stretches out before me. i hear strains of ennio morricone. then BAM. dead before my time. with so much left to do. i MEANT to stop looking so old! i MEANT to watch that you tube  tutorial on how to tie a scarf 3 different fashionable ways! i MEANT to buy some darker jeans! now daniel craig really WILL NEVER LOVE ME BECAUSE I'M DEAD!

no thanks.

but then something happens. a miracle really. i look over and i see an EXIT. is that light coming through??? i nearly weep. i still have to pee.

and then something else; every one's DONE shopping. and every one's HAPPY. the boybarians' christmas money has been liberated, no more burning pockets.  wingman got what he came for. the duke, too. they are satisfied! content! no one is grumpy! or bummed! or arguing! or bickering! and i didn't even have to bribe anyone with one of those big crappy pretzels!

and so we start for the door. and we're almost there. and the husband pinches my ass and smiles at me. and then he takes my hand. and we're out the doors. OUTSIDE. with the homeless people and the bad street musicians and the filth and the crime and i am so happy! and there's fresh air! sure it smells like pigeon, but it's AIR!

those were the longest 48 minutes of my life.

and the boybarians bump up against me as we walk and cross the street (they have to be right.beside.me.always. seriously, they used to follow me like baby duckings, now they bump up against me like puppies.) and i am holding the husband's hand. and we are headed to chinatown and the gritty little super delicious pho place off the park.

and so who cares if i can't tie a scarf? and so who cares if i look my age? and so who cares if daniel craig will never love me? i mean how awkward would THAT be anyway. "i know you love me, daniel craig, but you have to stop calling. you have to stop showing up on my front porch."

but i will tell you what, i absolutely do need some darker jeans. no doubt about that.

thank god for thrift stores.

x.

this is the part where you say thank you.

ah, the end of the year.

where one muses on what has and what is yet to come.

the ghost snippets of the year past rattling around trying to come up with something to say.

this year: sucked.

2011: sucked.

so did 2010: sucked.

i had higher hopes and they were dashed.

i know i know i live where it's sunny and sweet. i have wonderful kids and a wonderful relationship. i am rich in friends and family. i mean MY GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME ALREADY.

this year i was pushed and pushed and stretched and the stitching just didn't hold. it held for so long but it just got too stretched. life is like that sometimes. the stitching holds until it just doesn't.

i will try to make this brief.

so i wrote of losing my faith but not of finding it again. but i did find it again. that happened. it did. so that's good.

but the year still sucked? you ask.

oh yes. it still did. but let's move along.

and really all it took finding my faith again was literally stopping the in the middle of my daily 'i hate the world i am miserable' walk up a steep hill i was unfamiliar with and remembering OH YEAH. you forgot to see the light coming through the cracks. like a ton of bricks it started hitting me. you forgot your tools! you forgot when times get tough you get a mantra! and you repeat it and repeat it and repeat it until something better comes along! you jackass! you are miserable and flailing and you forgot everything!

so i'm stopped. on my walk. up that hill. wondering why it was that just now i was remembering. that i forgot. and thinking about tools and a mantra. and thinking about a friend on a certain social networking site who was posting his own mantra every day. something outside of his usual posting character. but he posted it. without fail. and that came to me. so i started there. peace and love. peace and love. that's what he posted. and since i had been so stuck and had forgotten so deeply i started there. you can always start right where you are. you are never so lost that you can't. peace and love. and i kept saying that under my breath out loud. peace and love.

and then i looked up, and fuck it all i wasn't smack dab in front of the catholic church in town. and then i looked down and i saw a lucky penny i hadn't seen before. i am not even kidding you.

look, i'm not one to begrudge a kick in the ass from anywhere. maybe it was god or my dad or just a wild coincidence. just the street i took in my daily 'i hate the world i am miserable' walk and a penny someone dropped and i didn't see until that moment. maybe.

i believe in all those things so i looked up into the sky and then grabbed up the penny and kept walking.

so i did peace and love. for a few blocks (this ended up being a particularly long walk. therapy takes time. sometimes longer than you think it will or should. i just kept walking.) and then i added gratitude. and then i locked on gratitude. oh my god WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME ALREADY. how fucking rich am i with these kids and this life. i have been pushed and my faith taken. i have been stretched and never ever dreamed things would GET WORSE than they had been. but no matter what  happens or happened i have so much i can be grateful for. 

so i said i am grateful i am grateful i am grateful. and i listed each thing i was grateful for. everything. all the things to be grateful for in my miserable existence.

and then i was walking down the hill. (there are a lot of hills here. i always seem to be walking UP.) and enjoying the feeling of fuller breaths and a bit of a breeze. i am grateful i am grateful i am grateful.

i just want to feel healed. i don't want to be wounded. i don't even care about being pushed and the stitching loosening. it will hold. i'm sure. okay i'm not entirely sure but for the first time in a long time i felt reasonably sure the stitching might hold. i just don't want to feel wounded. i want to be healed.

and i was thinking these things and walking down the hill and i walked by the weird crystal 'energy' shop. i say weird not because i don't get it but this place is weird. and in the window they had a big amethyst. amethyst. such a powerful healing stone. one of my absolute favorites. right there in front of me. healing. incidentally it also guards against drunkenness. so. there's that, too.

what are the odds? the big fat sparkly healing stone.

we have the religious reference and the father watching over me reference and now the spiritual reference. all pretty good for one what started out as the daily 'i hate the world i am miserable' walk.

and when i got home i grabbed my amethyst off the front porch and put it where i would see it. i tossed the lucky penny on the pile in front of the picture by my father. i felt better. i felt more like myself. amazing what happens when we stop clenching it all to us. all the crap. all the wounds and the misery and we let it go and take a good deep breath. find gratitude in the going up and the coming down. just find gratitude. period.

i forgot. forgot all the tools i ever learned. how quickly that happens.

and then i was talking on the phone with a dear friend who knows i am dealing with something but since i'm trying to cowboy my way out of this thing i'm not talking. so she talks. and she says

hey. i know you are dealing with something and i know you don't want to talk about it but i want you to know that i am here. for whenever you do. i am here for you and i will listen.

she is not the only friend to say this. i have the best friends on the planet. they have all said this at some point in our years as friends. and i have said it too. it gets said. but i always reply with the same old shit. the same pat speech.

because i'm used to saving my own life. and this time i almost well kinda nearly tried to give her that same pat speech. about this and that and how i'm really okay. blah blah blah. i'm about to but then i heard a voice in my head. as clear as can be

this is the part where you say thank you.

and then again. a little louder. because in cases like this voices seem to have to repeat themselves

this is the part where you say thank you.

and so, i shut up. and didn't really say all those things i normally do. and i said

thank you. i really appreciate that.

thank you.

it's okay to save your own life. it's okay to hold on to your wounded self. until you can let it go it's okay to hold on to it. i mean we all are a work in progress. you don't have to get the whole lesson in the first few decades. and it's okay to have shitty year after shitty year. i mean not 'okay' but it happens and it's okay that it's not all OKAY all the time. being imperfect is okay. but it's not okay to forget. it's not okay to forget the tools you have. however small. it's not okay to forget to be grateful. even with all that that is not okay and that whole mess of being a work in progress THIS IS THE PART WHERE YOU SAY THANK YOU.

thank you because you are here. in this life.

no matter what it is. no matter how hard or fucked up.

this is the part where you say thank you.

even if you are angry.

and hey, you have every right to be angry about whatever it is you are angry about. EVERY RIGHT. i am the most justified angry person around.

but it's not okay to forget. to be grateful. 

this is the part where you say thank you.

for something. for anything. or just to say it.

this is part where you say thank you.

because you are here.

and because you can.

start there.


x.

never marry a writer.

because we have raging egos AND bottomless pits of need and the beauty is that can change hourly.

and does.

and also because it means at some point they are going to write about your relationship.

today marks the 18th anniversary of the day the husband and i first met. love at first sight. and i will be the first to say that we don't have a perfect relationship because i don't even know what that is? what is that? what we have works for us. and i think relationships are super complicated and hard sometimes and then there's that whole 'living a life' business to pile on top.

and i was thinking about this the other day, about what makes some people stay together, what drives some people apart.

i am a moody bitchy cancer and have mild chronic depression with cheapskate tendencies and some days i am just a fucking picnic to be around. plus, apparently, i will write about you, too. at some point. so that has GOT to be a bonus. right?

he's an aquarian. enough said. the optimism and list making alone will drive you insane.

the simple fact is through better and whole lotta worse in the last few years and the last few months the husband and i have loved each other and liked each other and stuck by each other for 18 years. and other than a fancy dinner out and googly eyes over wine and seared meat that someone else cooks and cleans up, that's got to account for something.

i don't know what that something is, but in thinking about it i realized that i have loosely carried 3 simple thoughts around me. and they have made all the difference in the world. and because i'm me, i want to share them with you.

1. hold hands

2. cut a LOT of slack

3. be kind

holding hands is literal and figurative. it basically means don't break contact. always stick with your buddy. the world gets scary and the world gets dark and if you stop holding hands someone is going to get hurt. or lost.

OH MY GOD cut the other guy some slack. early and often. i mean really. no one is perfect. and we ALL do dumb stuff. the only way to learn from our dumb stuff is if we get the chance to learn from our dumb stuff. and we get that chance if someone cuts us some slack. or a lot of slack. and i will tell you what, the dumb stuff do-er is punishing themselves enough with their dumb stuff do-ing. trust me. so you don't *HAVE* to do it for them you just *WANT* to. don't. go do something else.

be kind. seriously. even when you can and even when you are JUSTIFIED JUST KEEP YOUR MEAN TRAP SHUT.  your mean ol' mouth just makes it worse. don't be mean. be kind. bite your tongue or get a blog under a pseudonym or buy a journal and a special 'just for me' pen WHATEVER just keep your mean thoughts to yourself. can you be mad and angry? HELL YES. can you be honest? yes. do. but don't confuse anger and honesty with being an asshole. and when we are in a spin HOWEVER JUSTIFIED it's easy to fool ourselves. don't fool yourself.

this doesn't mean you can't argue or disagree or be mad when the person you marry or partner with does dumb stuff. it just means there are better ways to do it than most of us do. kinder ways. faster to get back to the good stuff ways.

and really? seriously? NO ONE no matter what age likes to be yelled at. no one.

all right. that's all i got. now i'm going to go open a bottle of champagne and count my blessings and wonder, as i always do, how i got to be so damned lucky.

x.

the middle.

this note comes to you from the middle.

this is not a post wherein i describe something awful or real or really awful and then OH BUT I FOUND A LUCKY PENNY AND NOW IT'S OKAY SEE HOW I DID THAT!?

this is not that post.

this is the note everyone writes but no one sends. this is the note written from the very mess of the middle. after the beginning before the end wherein you're not quite sure how to proceed so of course you keep the blinds closed and the door shut and you don't invite anyone in because oh then you'd have to show them the mess and then not be able to explain it.

well, here i am. here is my mess. and i'll try to explain it.

see, and as it turns out, through a series of unfortunate events i seem to have lost my faith.

just, lost it.

and it's not really important what happened or how or why or blah blah blah...because it's not what happens to us it's how we deal with it ONLY I CAN'T. just. can't. and that's just weird to me.

and i'm not actually quite sure how it happened...you know faith not being a tangible thing like virginity or your car keys. one minute i was bopping along just fine and the next it was like i woke up in the back of a windowless van with shag carpeting and a wizard airbrushed on the side. i have no idea how i got here or why, and i don't see a way out. it's paralyzing in its own creepy way.

and every day i wake up and every day i'm still in that van. and it sucks.

okay, that's not true. not every day, some days it's like a windowless hotel conference room. and the doors have no handles. and there's nothing but donuts and coffee with POWDERED CREAMER. i can't stand donuts and powdered creamer.

i guess it depends on the day. because that's what faith does, it mitigates fear and resignation. it lifts you out of the van or the hotel conference room and sets you on soft ground outside, under a great tree, and sends in a gentle breeze. without it, you're in the hands of the fucking wizard.

now, there are some of you, bless your hearts, who will at this point want to pick up the phone and call me and suggest therapy or drugs or a 3 day hold or whatever and to you i say, do not. this is not a crisis of mental functioning, this is a crisis of faith. i suppose to some they are similar, but i assure you my brain is functioning at the same odd level it always has.

i send you this note from the middle expressly because i can. i am able. and that right there insures that i will be okay. not now, no, but eventually.

god, i am such a control freak. i mean really.

ANYWAY.

how do you know you have lost your faith, you might be wondering. i mean, what is faith anyway, you might be thinking. does this have to do with jesus or god because if it does i'm going to stop reading right now, you might be threatening.

unruffle your atheist panties, it doesn't.

what it means is this, i do not believe anymore that it's all just going to work out. i can't see it. and by all i mean all those things that are shitty and awful. i have had some pretty rough years recently and through it all i have always been able to stand among the piling rubble and say, well, okay. that happened. but look I FOUND A LUCKY PENNY. LOOK THERE ARE LILACS IN MY YARD. OH MY GOD A BIRD I LOVE BIRDS IT'S ALL GOING TO BE JUST FINE. and then i start singing 'just keep swimming' from nemo and write a blog post. lather rinse repeat.

yeah. no. not today. not for awhile. and while it sounds annoying and probably was, to be that optimistic and *sure* and just *know* i miss it. it was a new thing for me after a lifetime of 'it'll never work' and 'yeah good luck with that, sucker' and always having to clear a space for the other shoe to drop. my faith and optimism were AWESOME when they appeared. even as it wasn't easy to always keep it up, to keep moving forward even as it's all falling to shit. it wasn't easy but i was able to do it. because i had it. the faith. sometimes even with a little bit of grace. and i can't now. and i miss that.

but i will tell you what i miss most, the very thing that makes me so angry and mad at the world and EVERYONE the thing that makes me just want to key the fucking airbrushed wizard and then go back to bed and stay there...what i miss most is my sparkle. i've lost my sparkle. THE WIZARD IS STILL SPARKLY AND I AM NOT. this whole series of unfortunate events that has robbed me of my faith TOOK MY FUCKING SPARKLE, TOO.

bastard.

a girl without her sparkle is a girl to be reckoned with. it's a mean thing to be robbed of. it's a terrible thing to be without. sparkle is the ultimate accessory and the key to all things good about being a girl in this world. i had no idea my sparkle was tied so intrinsically to my faith. but i guess it was, because it's gone.

faith. sparkle. what's next? because i will tell you what, i am not in the mood for what's next so what's next is welcome to take a fucking hike.

i want a clapper. i want to clap it and the faith i once held so dear will chirp from somewhere and i will be like OH MY GOD it's behind the couch!! of course! i must've dropped it there that one time. whew. that was close!

no such luck. in the meantime i walk. i stretch. i breathe. the whole keep calm, carry on thing. i do all the other things i always used to do every day only now i try to not look like i'm drowning. or plotting a murder. i try to just keep my back straight and my chin up. try to yogi cowboy my way out of this thing. i think that might be the trick, but i don't really know.

because i honestly do not know what to do.

and there you have it. the report from the middle.

the unpleasant and unsparkly shag carpeted windowless middle.

just me and the wizard.

x.

the world walks by.

i used to sit on my porch at the farm. morning noon or night. in my pajamas with coffee, in my don't leave the house clothes with wine in the evenings. with no real neighbors it was peaceful and private. i could hear the birds and the wind and the gun club down the road. in the evenings i'd listen to the crickets and the frogs.

when we moved back east i never sat on the porch. the houses were too close together and the streets were too narrow. there were houses literally surrounding me on all sides. too many houses and too many neighbors. and neighbors on the east coast aren't 'friendly' per se but they sure are *there.* and boy do they want to know about the west coast and the family and what college you went to. and homeschooling? yeah. no. best not mention it or you'll hear about it. i didn't sit on the porch.

we chose this house for the porch. well, i did. that and it felt like home and it was really the only one available at the time and it took pets and it was the cheapest.

i sit on the porch.

i watch the people walk by.

the whole world walks by.

the locals and the tourists. they walk by and bike by and drive by.

the big tourist buses and the vacation vans and the marathons and the walkathons.

and when you live where there's a lot of tourists and traffic you aren't even noticed. just like i like it. i can sit right on my porch right there and not be seen. i'm part of the backdrop. i've come to learn that people on vacation are some of the least observant people in the world.

they look at what they think they are *supposed* to look at. they take pictures and videos instead of just seeing what is in front of them. they meander and shuffle. they walk into traffic and they dart out of nowhere. i think they think they can't get hurt because they are on vacation.

they rent bikes in the city and ride across the bridge. by the time they get here they look like they are having the time of their lives or they are as miserable as fuck. some people have no business renting a bike and riding in traffic. they create dangerous situations. they are oblivious. they ride on the sidewalk. you're not supposed to ride on the sidewalk. but they do because they are afraid to ride in the street. if you are afraid to ride in the street you shouldn't rent a bike in the city. lather rinse repeat. oh, and they should REALLY give a little talk on how to USE YOUR GEARS. it's like a cartoon watching people pedal so quickly around and around and around on the flat ground getting nowhere fast and exerting all energy in the process. ISN'T THIS FUN!

oh. and don't get caught by the old couple who walk down the street and will LOUDLY ADMONISH YOU for riding your bike on the sidewalk. the tourists who rented the bike in the city mostly look confused at this as they are mostly foreign and don't understand the old couple or what they are shouting at them. oh, there are signs that say don't ride your bike on the sidewalk. but, they aren't in every language. and people on vacation don't read signs.

i see whole families walk by. the dad in his vacation clothes he wouldn't normally wear. bright white shoes and his 'good' jeans. he looks pinched and done. the kids are bored and grumbly. the mother following behind clutching her purse with a grim determined smile. ISN'T THIS FUN!

people think they are supposed to be having more fun than they actually are when they're on vacation. when you're on vacation, you're still you. and your family is still your family. and everything costs so much in these little towns. the restaurants are fair to middling at best. ice cream is about the same price as a small pure bred dog if you go for the deluxe cone. and i can't imagine kids enjoy ticky tacky galleries and shops with ticky tacky things. and then there's that bike ride...

lovers walk by. they sit on the bench across the street. they make out in outrageous fashion. some really get into it and practically straddle each other as the others walk by. the drunker they are the more salacious it gets.

they fight on the bench. there are loud arguments and tears. shouting. or quiet crying. once i saw a man and woman park in front of my house. they argued their way out of the car. he called her a fucking bitch. she called him a pale, cheap imitation of his brother. they made their way down  the street. you only get two hours to park. and sure enough, two hours later they were back. kissing and cuddling and flirting after a few expensive drinks and some dinner down the street. he opened her door. she flashed a little leg.

women walk by. in high heels and flats and tennis shoes. i have seen more ugly boots sitting on this porch than i care to think about. there are foreign couples and same sex couples and couples on their first date. or their last. there are young couples and old couples and i swear to god i just saw the other day two people meet right in front of my house for a hook up.

just because they don't notice me doesn't mean i'm not RIGHT THERE. 

people walk down the street smoking cigarettes and smoking pot. eating ice cream. they are forever with their huge ice cream cones. they sit in their cars and drink wine while they watch the sunset.

the locals walk by. the kid down the street, he walks by. he's rough and red faced. works at one of the marinas. he drives a big huge old black '52 chevy truck. it's got the raider's logo painted on both doors and always has an odd assortment of stuff in the back. he's a roughneck. he shouts at the cyclists. isn't afraid to take them on when he's driving or walking. that's ballsy. because you don't fuck with the cyclists. they seem so benign until you piss one of them off. then it's good night irene. nice knowing you. (irene, incidentally, is from england and also lives on the street. she walks  four pomeranians at once twice a day. they belong to her daughter. that's a story for another day.)

the kid got a girl recently. young and long haired. pretty in a way girls are pretty before they start fucking with their looks so they can be 'prettier.' she started sleeping over i noticed. then moved in. they held hands when they walked by. they got a puppy. the cutest little puppy in the world. they held hands and held the puppy. then they held hands and walked the puppy. recently, she's been walking the puppy several steps ahead. the kid stays behind, smoking a cigarette. looking bored or tired or relieved or pissed. i can't tell. some days it's all of the above. the past few days i haven't seen the girl. the kid walks the puppy alone. the puppy is growing bigger and is proving to be unremarkable looking at best.

the guy next door on the other side of me mostly keeps to himself. his wife seems pleasant and seems to do a LOT of shopping. most days he walks about a mile down the street to the north end of town for lunch at a restaurant that sammy hagar has some part of. he smokes a cigar every evening. and gives us plants from his yard. he or his wife are up before 6 am every morning. i see their light when i get up. they don't store their white wine properly. they have a grumpy dog.

the 6 million dollar neighbors down the street (i call them that because they were trying to sell their house for 6 million dollars) don't care for us. we have boys the exact same age. right down the street. in a neighborhood with NO OTHER KIDS. but i guess the prayer flags and buddha and all around hippie vibe puts them off. it's just as well, both their dogs are assholes.

there are gypsies further down the street in that direction. they have won the lottery twice. they park in the no parking zone in front of their house because they want to park there and don't care about the tickets. i don't know how many live there. they are dark and swarthy and secretive. they grow beautiful roses and recently held a garage sale. two weekends in a row. i try to get a good look into their garage when i pass by. there's a mint condition yellow 60s corvette in there.

there's an indian beer company executive somewhere on the street. in one of the big houses where people aren't seen coming or going. where people certainly are NOT sitting on their porch. our house is not like those houses. our windows are drafty and the heating system sucks. the appliances are crap and there is the cheapest carpet known to man in all the bedrooms. my house is funky and often smells like skunk. it's a house with dubious and wild  history. people are awed by it. we have a security system. it's a very strange place with no parking or storage or closets or a yard and i love it.

my neighbor two houses away has a huge truck and ALWAYS gets a parking spot near her house. i can't get a space to save my life. often i have parked better than a ten minute walk away. and as i near the house, hauling groceries or library books or whatnot, there will be several recently opened up spaces to choose from. my parking karma is spotty at best.

but, i have learned to parallel park LIKE A BOSS. sometimes it takes a 67 point turn to get in the space BUT I GET IN IT. you can tell a LOT about a person by how they parallel park. i watch people parallel park every single day. with vacation brain. a lot in rental cars unfamiliar to them. i should set up a booth and charge 5 cents for my advice and observations about people's lives based on their parallel parking alone. i would make a fortune. if you don't have a parking pass you only get two hours. there's a LOT of parking going on every single day right in front of me.

speaking of parking, i noticed the woman of a certain age with the expensive new white BMW doesn't come around anymore. she was visiting the man down the street on the other side of me. he would walk her to her car in the morning, kiss her passionately, and collect his temporary parking pass. the other day i saw another women with him. another blond. she had the pass and the kiss. her BMW was black.

mostly though i see the tourists. they stop, nearly every single one of them, and point to the house on the hillside behind me. it looks like it's going to fall any minute. literally. it's not, the city has inspected it and says it's sound. it just looks like it's going to fall. it's also the reason my house smells like skunk. it's vacant and i think the skunks are squatting in there. a whole lotta skunks.

the guy next door is a billionaire and owns a string of restaurants in hawaii. he's rarely ever around. apparently he owns the house that looks like it's about to fall down. and plans to renovate it. the only access is from the road behind it, at the top of the hill. there's a funicular down to to the house.

every single person stops. and when i'm sitting on the porch they are.literally.right.there. they stare. they point. they take photos and videos. loudly pointing and proclaiming in the direction of the house behind me. in disbelief and certainty of the imminent, sliding demise of the house behind me. loudly showcasing their extensive knowledge in structural arts. or loudly worrying about the state of structural affairs.  in every single language you can imagine i've heard the same thing. they are ALL STRUCTURAL ENGINEERS.

usually it's the man or men in the group who know the most. 'oh. that's coming down for sure. i mean, any minute now.' 'oh, you're right dave. i know because i had a buddy once who...blah blah blah blah blah.' occasionally, when i'm not on the porch i'll be at my desk. i'll look out the window and watch this show. run for your lives, i'll say in the direction of the people beyond the window. hurry, i'll say.

and for the most part they declare that anyone living in my house must be an idiot at best for living under that house.

and every once in awhile i will be spotted. because, you know, i'm RIGHT THERE. they will ask, doesn't that make you nervous? that house falling down on you? and i look them straight in the eye and i say, i pray every single night before bed. they get it or they don't. but they all shuffle along.

i want to shout TURN AROUND. take pictures of THAT. quit taking pictures of an ugly ass house.

OH MY GOD I KID YOU NOT AS I SIT HERE WRITING THIS THE JEHOVAH'S WITNESSES WITH THE CUTEST LITTLE KID IN A SUIT JUST APPEARED. he has a stack of Watchtowers. which is particularly awesome because rumor has it jimi hendrix spent some time in this house back in the day. all along the watchtower indeed. the universe IS AWESOME.

about once a day you get the cyclist and the motorist show. not to be confused with the tourists who rent the bikes in the city, the cyclist is a whole different animal. so you have the occasional motorist who has no fucking clue how to drive next to or near cyclists. who does something stupid and gets the wrath from one or more of the cyclists. rule number one of driving here: don't piss off the cyclists. they will take you down. they will follow your vehicle and make your life for the next few minutes a living hell. i have seen them surround a vehicle. they have the quickest, saltiest tongues you can imagine. you wouldn't think people in spandex could be so menacing, but it gets ugly. people don't know how to drive. they are on vacation. they are unfamiliar. it's generally an honest mistake, but it won't go by unnoticed. because it's dangerous for the cyclists. and, yes, the cyclists can be dicks, too. it's defensive, i get it. but it's a little out of hand sometimes. on both sides. i have seen things get physical. you've got spandex and testosterone and tons of steel. it's a recipe for disaster. the police have had to be called on more than one occasion.

i sit here and watch it all.

people are walking home and walking along and walking to and walking from.

the world walks by.

and i get a front row seat. 

isn't that something.

x.

saudade.

 from wikipedia:

"Saudade is a unique Portuguese word that has no immediate translation in English. Saudade describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. It often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return. It's related to the feelings of longing, yearning. It can be described as an emptiness, like someone or something should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence."

i have saudade. for my father. where once there was uncontrollable grief and a world of what ifs, i now have a longing and a fondness. a remembrance of the things that made my father my father. the good parts of my father. i miss him.

i was listening to the actress, mindy kaling ('the office') on fresh air talk about the death of her mother (from the same disease my father died of coincidentally.) her mother had passed some months earlier. and i thought, i know nearly right where she is. in her grieving. right now. i can hear it in the tone in her voice. she's far enough along to be able to speak about her mother without fully breaking down, not far enough to keep the break out of her voice. her heart hovering just above her words. the loss sitting right there in her throat. during active grief it travels. it settles in different spots. i've felt it in the palm of my hand. i heard it in her throat.

what she said basically, and i'm paraphrasing here, was that when someone is that sick and dying, after they pass it's all we can think about about. the pain and the suffering. the hardship before the loss. it's some months before we are actually able to think about them and remember *them.* with memories unclouded by that pain and suffering and loss. about the 'before.' the ways in which we loved them. the things that made them who they were. not the death that took them.

and, that's exactly how it was for me. my father's death was so sudden and painful, his life so complicated. our relationship more so. it was months before i could remember all the things that made him the father i loved. the funny things he said and did. the way he just was just *him.* poster boy for the broken mold.

it feels like such a relief to simply miss someone instead mourn them.

i sit on my porch and marvel at where i landed and think, my father would enjoy this porch. there would be room for him here. in this life.

i drive on roads i have driven on all my life with him, i visit places he took me to when i was a girl, i look around my little neck of the woods and think, he would like this. he would like to know i am in john muir country. he would love to know i made it back home.

there are times i want so badly to share this with him, to make an observation only he would appreciate, to watch him relish a meal or a joke or a soft seat in the sun.

i think about him when i cook when i drive when i write. i think about him when i parent. and when he sends those pennies from heaven i grab each and every one up and i hold them close and i don't even need to make the wish.

and i am settled in our relationship in a way i never imagined was possible. he is my largest single influence and my biggest cautionary tale.

i have saudade. for the kid my teenager used to be. for awhile i would look at him and ALL i would 'see' was remembering that he was a baby and a toddler once. that i was his whole world. that we were inseparable, a LOT of that by his choice. and i was still in charge. and remembered and i missed him. even as he stood right in front of me. i missed that little boy. and that's all i saw.

and for awhile i would wonder, foolishly, why things have to change so much. why our little ones had to get big. and go farther than we ever let them before. without us. foolishly because i KNOW it's supposed to be that way. it's supposed to happen that they want to go far. to go away. it's suppose to happen that we stay back. and let them.

then one day i stopped. i stopped thinking about him as a baby and a boy. because i looked at him and realized, wow. i really really like this person right here in front of me. he's kind and interesting and talented and confident and yes he makes me crazy but good lord does he make me laugh. 

and then it became that i 'remembered' him as a boy, and 'saw' him as he is now. and remembered things that we used to do or ways in which we used to interact and the things he used to love, remembered them with fondness, but then set them aside and made room for him. now. building in time together where i can, adjusting the way in which i parent to match the profound and sometimes daily changes, but mostly just letting him grow into the person he's meant to be.

mostly trying not to hover, mostly trying to remember that biting one's tongue is a useful skill, mostly trusting that this is what is supposed to happen.

mostly with grace.

mostly.

i have to think if my father read this blog he would think i was over thinking this all a bit. no, i DEFINITELY know he'd think that. but he knows better than anyone that i come by it honestly. when they break those molds what do you think happens to all those little pieces? i'll give you a hint, they don't get thrown away.

hey. it's friday. get away from the computer and go do something nice for yourself, okay?

x.

toddlers & teenagers.

1. need your full time, non stop understanding of the absolute constant and intense explosion of growth in body and mind that they are experiencing. even as they don't understand, and are just trying to keep up.

2. chances are when they act out or throw a tantrum they need your ear, your patience, and your touch more than they need to be punished or isolated.

3. never ever underestimate the power of a cold drink and a snack.

4. let them play their music in the car.

x.

dear teenagers, *this* is why your parents are so grumpy when you go back to school supply shopping.

1. we don't 'technically' budget for back to school supplies.

2. we don't think they should cost NEARLY as much as they do.

3. we are not in charge of the list.

the thing is, we know you're going to need school supplies. but high schoolers don't generally need their supplies until AFTER the school year begins. when each teacher gives their specific requirements. and by the time that happens it's like a month after we've started dealing with back to school. and the beginning of the shopping is all about the shoes and the clothes and oh you need a new back pack this year? your old one won't work? didn't i just buy you new underwear?

in some cases we've paid for transportation for the year or sports fees or both. then the summer packet with the fees laid out for the school comes and in some cases we've had to already pay for the yearbook, sometimes there's club fees, a PE uniform, a pre-paid dining card to load so you can eat at school.

THIRTY FIVE FREAKING DOLLARS FOR AN ASSOCIATED STUDENT BODY CARD? does it come with a massage and a free term paper?

whatever the fees, they are at least, more often than not, expected or hit early enough that they just get 'dealt' with. it doesn't mean it makes us grumble less, it's just a known quantity.

then the lull of the last days of summer set in. we start to relax. anticipate the start of school.

then the held breath, the exhalation, and the whirlwind of the first days of school hit.

and then it's like the 1st school day friday and we think we've made it through the first week unscathed and we're sitting on the couch and enjoying a (cheap because by now we feel tapped out) glass of wine, patting ourselves on the back for having made it through when BAM!

you remind us you have the requirements from your teachers.

oh? we ask. what kinds of things this year?

and you say, 1 inch binders, notebooks, dividers, etc. you answer, but are vague.

not a lot, you say.

oh? we ask. do you have a set list?

you do not.

well, we say. let's go this weekend.

we might discuss it again on saturday. mention about a list. you mention back that you know everything you need. we mention maybe you could give us an idea. you mention you know, binders. paper. the usual.  we drop it. because we forget to remember. what it was like last year. we just forget in general.

so we get in the car and go on sunday. and of course target, where everyone else has already gone, is out of everything. except the crappiest bright white binders and justin bieber notebooks. and they're WIDE ruled.

so we go to the big box office supply store.

we are lucky if we only have to hit one. because more often than not they too are out of everything. and then the driving begins.

which brings us to #2 on the list.

NOTHING and i mean nothing is on sale at the big box office supply stores. nothing we need, anyway.  and not only is nothing on sale, shit is EXPENSIVE! and i know we *just* did this last year so why am i so freakin' surprised?? you wonder. but i will tell you what, back to school supply shopping is a lot like childbirth. if you remembered the actual pain involved in doing it you wouldn't ever EVER do it again. 

and we just don't think things should be as expensive as they are. we think about how little we needed in high school, a back pack and like a folder we're muttering to ourselves. we can't think of much more we needed. kids these days with their fancy school requirements, we mumble under our breath.

but loud enough for you to hear.

of course we are being completely irrational. and it's not your fault you have school supplies you need. but it makes us feel better. best just to let us be.

to our way of thinking, a binder should be like a dollar. maybe two dollars.  you know, if it has that fancy plastic outer sleeve. a notebook should be no more than 50 cents. maybe a dollar. but binder paper should never be more than a dollar. can't you get pencils at school? since when did they stop offering pencils at school?

OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN THE PRICE OF A PACK OF DIVIDERS??? if i had any smarts at all i would have gone into the divider industry. that or disposable razors. those people are making a MINT.

ah, so now you see that pinchy look on our faces? yeah. look around. every single parent we pass has the same look. and do you notice how every parent/child combo seems to be having the SAME 'conversation' we are? have you ever seen a grumpier looking group of parents? we can't even make eye contact with each other, we parents. it's too raw and painful. it's like we're all being slowly tortured to death but nobody wants anyone else to share in their pain and we have no sympathy left to give others. we have no commiseration left in us. you have broken us. so no judgment from you, teenager.

and we haven't even made it to #3.

which brings us to #3.

we are not in charge of the 'list.' not only are we not in CHARGE of the list, there isn't even a LIST TO CONSULT. LET ALONE TO BE IN CHARGE OF. because the list is several items jotted down in several spots on several pieces of paper in your weird ass hurried handwriting. papers which you have gathered at the last minute and are 'consulting.'  and by consulting i mean you have like 6 different spots you wrote 6 different class requirements down in and you're shuffling through them like you have no idea where they are or what they are because YOU DON'T. we are standing IN.THE.PLACE.and you have NO CLUE WHAT YOU  NEED!

we know what we need. and i'm pretty sure they don't sell whiskey at staples.

this is a grave error on their part. they could make a killing. the 'speak-easy button bar' they could call it.

so there is no actual list and the person who knows what's even remotely supposed to be ON the list should one exist is you. and you are a teenager. with a now grumpy parent in tow. and you're not quick to answer our questions in the first place, let alone with any real DEFINITIVE and CLEAR intent, and add to that the fact our grumpiness and sheer need to now keep repeating the same question hoping to get some idea of what we are shopping for, how many we need, and some vague idea of how much this is going to cost us.

it's a school supply clusterfuck. it's a meltdown of college ruled proportions waiting to happen.

'so a binder. for every class? or just some? and what size?' we ask. trying to beat back the rising hysteria in our voice.

'mumble mumble don't know mumble 1 inch' you reply.

'what about these notebooks?' we grab a stack from the one and only box we see. only we've asked without looking at the size. and we will pay the price.

'those say WIDE RULED. you KNOW i can only use COLLEGE RULED.'

to your credit you don't add 'dumbass.' yay you. you get to live. 

and that's *just* the paper goods. because wait, there's more! all the times you maybe even remotely discussed with us what might be getting purchased on this trip you never once mention the extras.

the lock for the PE locker, the specific requirements for your 'sportfolio.' oh? what's a sportfolio one might ask? well, that's a good question. yes well, it's an entire binder set up with a bunch of extras for YOUR P.E CLASS. wtf? not to mention the protractor and extras for math and the graphing notebook not just loose graphing paper and don't EVEN get me started on the graphing calculator. oh my god we did that last year and i STILL can't really even talk about it.

so with the driving and the finding it's going on hour two and we are pushing the cart wondering how in the hell we got blind sided AGAIN by something we knew was coming, can't believe how goddamned expensive everything is and really want to start every single sentence with 'well back in my day...' and have NO earthly idea of what we need to buy you, how much we need to buy you, how much it's going to cost us, and we only have YOU to rely on for any kind of actual information.

and by now you have picked up on our irritation, you can't believe how old we sound when we're complaining about the prices because 5.49 doesn't seem AT ALL an unreasonable a price for a binder, hey what's that shiny thing!!! you think and you wonder if you need it because it's so shiny and so you ask us if you should get it because you don't know what it is but you're pretty sure you need it it's SO SHINY and you can't figure out why you get such a snippy answer from us to a such a simple question from you and why would we flip out on you just because you asked to go to urban outfitters 'just to look around' and maybe go out to get something to eat afterwords?

WHY. INDEED.

and THIS, teenagers, this is why your parents are so grumpy when you go back to school supply shopping.

the end.

sincerely,

x.