beary sad

 Last night, we had an unwelcome visitor. Clive, our semi-resident 400+ lb black bear, came to finish the job of demolishing our beehive (a job he started a few nights ago). We started our protection with a four foot high fence with a gate securing the hive, but that wasn't enough. The first night of terror, he tore the gate off the hinges and flung the super, brood box, and everything else about wherever he pleased. We were sad, but thought we might be able to save them. My husband jerry-rigged a new solution, which included zip ties and a metal fence panel attached to the remaining (wooden) fence. 

This morning, we woke up to find the devastation was complete. Clive had warped the six foot high metal fence panel in his desperation to get the grubs and honey, and had flattened everything within a 20 foot radius, except the pond, which was already flat. Even the 2' tall round, which my husband had difficulty moving, had been upended in Clive's destructive mood.

Seriously, it was like Clive just saw red and went crazy. It was too cold to have the windows open last night, or I am sure we would have heard him...though I wouldn't really want to confront a bear as big as Clive is. He's no brown or Grizzly, but I would not want to come upon him in the night without some serious defense mechanisms.  

I thought I didn't like deer...turns out I like bears even less. I would show pictures of the wreckage, but it would just make you sad.

According to other beekeepers in the area, an electric fence is the only thing that will keep Clive at bay.

So now I get to learn everything there is to know about electric fences and my husband's day will be taken up by installing one. I assure you, this is not how either of us wanted to spend our day today.

little suckers

Sometimes life is so draining that I literally feel like someone took two giant suckers and put them underneath my clavicle on either side and turned them on. They're not loud munching crunching suckers, they're quiet suckers that leave bruises in their wake and an empty feeling - like all of the emotional liquid in my body has been pressurized in a vacuum and is being carried away. Sometimes I actually look to see if there are little clear tubes expressing all of the emotional essence of my being carrying my emotions out of me. The thing is, if it was yucky, snot-colored, putrescent emotional essence that I saw leaving, I would think the pain and the sucking agony was worth it. But no, it seems like it's the clear stuff - the essence of "what's good and green in this world" - that is being sucked away, leaving all the nasty stuff inside.

That's when I stop caring about the suckers, stop wondering if they'll go away - because the ache is so bad I know they won't...not without a fight.

So I start thinking about what I can do to survive the next moment, the next hour, the next day. I put the tubes in my mind back underneath my shirt so I can pretend they're not there, and I start coping. I go for a walk. I kiss my baby. I cry, and cry, and write, and cry. I talk to my very understanding husband. I try to immerse myself in work. I call friends and ask them to tell me about their problems so I can focus on something besides my own emotional pain. I eat copious amounts of 86% dark chocolate.

Most of all, I pray, and pray, and guide my thoughts to better things with all my might, and live for the hope that tomorrow will be a better day.

walking in the sunshine
pushing the baby in the stroller
observing the trees shimmer in the sunlight
pondering the effects of their symbiotic moss industriously gathering dew droplets
remembering how the ducks looked on the pond earlier in the morning

I forget about:
no grocery
     friends
     school
     fresh fruit
and the upcoming nut shortage that will disrupt my blood sugar balance
             news
             mask shortage
             social distancing protocols

and reflect that living a life that's relatively unchanged despite a pandemic is a privilege...I can still walk and see the trees, I still have food to eat (so far), and although there are hard things, life is ultimately very good. And I am grateful.
            

Upset

If you were to demonstrate the word upset with a table, tablecloth, and set of plastic tea party dishes, you'd have the cloth laying neatly on the table, and the dishes 'set' neatly and nicely on top, minding their own business. Then someone (or multiple someones) would come along and grab the tablecloth and toss all the contents within the tablecloth in the air...hence the "up" portion of the word. The table is no longer set. The set of dishes, the placement of the dishes, and indeed everything that was on the table itself is literally up in the air, ruining the 'set' of the table: upset.

The thing about upset is that it might mislead someone into thinking that because the tea service is "up" things might be "looking up" - it might attain new heights, new spots of grandeur. The tea party is literally going somewhere - so it might not be a bad thing, right?

Oops. Whoever thought that did not take into account gravity. It's a real force, folks. With it, the dishes crash (thankfully they don't shatter because whoever set the table was thoughtful enough to provide plastic ware), the tea streams in a delightful fountain everywhere, the cucumber sandwiches artfully fall to the floor in an indelicate state of messiness, and what was neat and nice is suddenly NOT neat and nice and work needs to be done to clean it up.

Poor tea set.

Poor feelings that are like the tea set - scattered and dismantled. It's too bad that when feelings are upset, the only thing that is "up" is hormones/emotions. It's all downhill from there.

avocado

Sometimes nothing will do except to have an avocado with a meal.

I used to despise avocado. Growing up, I can't really remember having them in the house. It seems avocados are much more readily available than they used to be. I had no idea what one looked like for a really long time, and I was embarrassingly old the first time I heard about guacamole, and even more embarrassingly old the first time I tried it. I was over 25 the first time I made my own.

Avocados have caused a lot of environmental problems, though, because as they have gained in popularity, the question of "What to do with those Annoying Pits?" (or are they seeds?) has become a rather large North American ecological issue, as said annoying pits take forever to de-compose in the compost and are basically an ecological menace, kind of like the Greek yogurt second-strain leavings...but that's another post for another time.

I hadn't even thought about the ginormous pit piles that must be growing outside of places like processing plants for Wholly Guacamole.  I read an interesting article here.

It really is amazing what people can come up with. I wish I had really good ideas like that and the gumption to make a business and go for it.

By the way, while I was pregnant with my first baby, I discovered that an avocado with some salt mixed with salsa (San Juan Co. is my favorite, but Pace sauce will do in a pinch) and some chips is a very steadying lunch. You should try it sometime.

raspberries and pants-heads

Every morning, my baby and I have playtime after I feed her. It's my favorite time of the day, especially when dear Papa can join us.

I wake her up for second breakfast and stroke her back and tell her "good morning, little mouse" in Chinese. She often leans her head against my shoulder and snuggles into me. I find an inordinate amount of satisfaction in receiving that one action. Sometimes she will even rub my arm in reciprocity. She will even give me soft kisses on the cheek, as well - the only time of day I don't have to ask for such generosity.

I feed her and then she looks up at me and coos. She sits up, the hair in her eyes utterly adorable, and then proceeds to roam all over the bed, confident in her body and its abilities, pulling herself over obstacles (pillows) and mountain ranges (bodies) with ease, as a strong swimmer faces waves.

Her favorite forbidden thing is to play with the "buttons" on our headboard. Her favorite acceptable thing is to pull the hem of my shirt up slightly and proceed to give me raspberries on my tummy. She shrieks with joy when she gets the perfect amount of suction, and I praise her. She screams in delight. It's our little game, and feels like a bit of magic came from heaven and decided to sprinkle itself on my bed. Eventually, she gets bored and casts herself off the side of the bed to search for "toys" (also known as detritus) on the floor. She is very confident and uses her instincts and always goes backwards, feet first, to avoid a big big bonk.

Even though she has two teeth ("Toofins!") she is very careful not to bite, unless she feels threatened...which is mostly when she feels her brothers are a little too rambunctious in their play with her.

She hates hats and hoods and will pull and yank and fuss til they come off...yet she routinely puts pants on her head. She won't wear them on her head with the waistband 'round her crown, but she puts them on as if she is trying to accessorize with a scarf. She will lift the pants over and over again above her head with both hands raised high and place and re-place the pants just so until she is satisfied. Then she turns and looks for approval, appearing inordinately pleased with herself, and laughs her big-girl laugh.

I love it, but it also reminds me that she will be an actual big girl soon. Time goes by so quickly!

Keeping your Salt Together

who we are
where we came from
what we want informs
when and even 
how
we perform life's little (and not-so-little) tasks.

For example: all the women in the family have salt keepers. And our salt keepers are identical.

That's right. We all keep our salt. It's not in a little cardboard cylinder with a metal opener that can cut the tender underbelly of your nail. Nope. Not ours. We dump our various kinds of salt into the aesthetically pleasing yin-and-yang wooden salt keeper for safe-keeping, ease of access, non-clumping, finger-protecting purposes.

There's something else you need to understand: For most of us, not having "things" is a big deal. We sort and chuck our way through life using the methods described in "Unstuff Your Life". Yes, we all have the book, and yes, we all use it, too. Just like we use our salt keepers. So if we're bothered by stuff that isn't useful, and we could have our salt in a little cardboard cylinder, why do we bother to take the extra steps of sorting and keeping the salt in something used for one purpose and one purpose only, when we generally eschew specialty kitchen equipment?!?

It's because we share what is good, and what works. But where we came from - together in one home - influences who we are (not all the same) and what we want (value): tasty food, companionship in the kitchen, and time together.

So when we make food for our families, our drawers are organized similarly, even though our kitchen layouts are vastly different. We are at ease in each others' kitchens. Kitchens are, we have been taught, and have experienced, a place where discipline and love mix and where family felicity blooms.

We all are tactile creatures. I have seen each woman in my family dip her fingers into her salt keeper and feel the texture as we take out a pinch (or five) and toss them into whatever she's making.

It's about the feeling, the grit, the togetherness - not just the keeping of the salt. With our salt keepers, we keep together.

sometimes the weather...

It's summer in the PNW. It's my favorite time of year, because although it's sunny, it's not too hot, and it rains just often enough to keep things green (in a good year).

Sometimes the rain feels like a blessed break from all the sunshine and I relish watching the fat drops falling in sheets on the surface of the pond and feel satisfaction and peace in life.

Today is not one of those days.

Today, the rain matches the mood in the house: the realization that summer, while not over, is definitely on the way out; the reconciliation of having to go back to school and all the feelings that go with it; the disappointment that responsibility never really goes away; the overwhelming urge to shout "IT IS TOO MUCH!" from the rooftops because there is no possible way to get everything done that needs to be done in this day completed...need I go on? I know you have had days like this, too - enough of them to feel sympathy.

Tomorrow, the whether/weatherman says it will be hot again. I am hoping for less rainy feelings and that the warmth of peace becomes the weather reality in our home.

Post about a Baby

I did an amazing thing: I grew a human inside of me and managed to get it out, with the help of HH and some midwives.

Every time I see a pregnant lady, I look at all the other people around her and I think: "You are all here because you each had a woman in your life who loved you enough to carry you and go through the pain of getting you here. You should honor each woman who makes the same choice your mother made." I can't understand women who think they're fat when they're pregnant. You may be gaining weight, but it's all related to growing your baby. Why be ashamed of it? Your body is doing an amazing thing - don't shame it! I never felt as confident in my body and what it could do as when I was pregnant. I wish all women would try to see their bodies that way while they're carrying littles inside of them.

It seems odd that as soon as babies come, people forget about the interval of time of pregnancy. I assure you, when you're dreaming of a full night of sleep again, you don't forget about pregnancy, which probably seemed blissful in comparison to the zombie-like state new moms all subscribe (succumb?) to.

My mom says having a baby is like having the Midas touch. You have all the baby gold of the little coos and gurgles, but you're also responsible for the following "ofs" for your baby: sleeping, eating, bouncing, jollying, singing, and the eating for that baby.

(It also seems to me like having the Milky Way touch. Everything is all milk, all the time: whether you have it, whether you don't; is it time to feed, or is it not; is it time to change a diaper because of all the milk ingested, or is it stinky wind; where in the world did that spot on my clothes come from? oh shoot, I forgot to load the bottle paraphernalia for pumping... the list goes on and on, and IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF MILK!) 

And the milk is all because of the baby. And we are so glad we have our baby now. Such joy and wonder and face hurting continuously from so many smiles have never been seen at our house before.

over

overwhelmed
                                                                     over tired...or is that overt ired?
overcrowded
                                                                     overambitious
overarranged
                                                                     overcome                                                                

overexerted
                                                                     overdemanding
overworked                                                 
                                                                                                             
                                                                     worked over
overdone
                                                                     Done. Over!
_____________________
oh, life.

Would you rather be overambitious or have your ambitions be over? 

Garden

On Saturday I went to an amazing garden store. They give you a map—it’s that awesome. There are water features and an entire section dedicated to Japanese maples. I think they sell upwards of 50 varieties. I was there for two hours and didn’t even see all of it. It’s all the best things about a garden but you can look for free and buy what you want to take home with you—that exact plant, in its current condition.

We bought some raspberries (several varieties) and some grapes, and some starts, because we have not been able to start our garden properly due to the move, which is still ongoing and is beginning to feel draggy and pesky and somewhat awful. It’s my least favorite part: 90% completion. Just enough to tempt you that it’s over, but the dirty work of cleaning and patching are still not done.

Maybe next year we will get some kiwi. We have four blueberry bushes, three strawberry pots, and we even have some wild huckleberries in the yard. I now am the proud owner of a cold hardy pomegranate tree, a dwarf Meyer lemon tree, an avocado tree, and a banana palm. (Dwarf cavendish.) If I could, I would have a grapefruit tree and an orange tree. Last priority is a lime tree. I do not know if we will get pears, but we got two apples and a nectarine. We want a good variety. We want all sorts of tasty foods. We want the kids to know what it is like to plant, watch, harvest, process and eat their own food.

We put up a little fence to keep the bunnies out of the garden, which has rich dark brown soil that has been fortified over years and was not bad to start with. This year we will have broccoli, beets, onions,  red and green cabbage, several types of lettuce, and some kale. We will also have acorn squash, Hubbard squash, zucchini and a couple kinds of cucumbers.

I love gardening. I love how the plants respond to care. They grow up and curlicue here and there and produce the yummiest of things for you if you just show them a little love.

I think people are a lot like plants. They will do wonderful things—not just for you—if you show them love.

So let’s love the plants and the people—and maybe show people we love them by feeding them the plants we tended.

Nits

At work, when there are just a few grammatical or formatting errors in a document someone else has circulated for comment and review, it is common in my industry to say, “I have just a few nits for you.” What the person speaking usually means is, “I don’t want to embarrass you or take up meeting time with everyone here to point out small errors (some of which may be points of preference), but I will send them to you so you can look at the changes I suggested and incorporate them into the document.”

They do NOT mean that they have a few lice eggs to pass you.

Since I was recently the victim of a lice outbreak (yes, I felt victimized), I can promise you, I will never use the phrase, “I have just a few bits for you,” at work, and I will have to work hard to suppress a shudder anytime I am in an in-person meeting (I’ll feel free to shiver if I’m on a conference call) and someone utters those words.

I will also never think of the phrase “nit-pick” the same anymore, either.

As I was spending two hours (yes, that’s right) being professionally de-loused,, I learned a few things about lice. For those of you uninterested, skip this paragraph. But I think you will find it enlightening.  They have six legs. Their eggs are called nits. They do not burrow, unlike bedbugs. They do not jump, unlike fleas. They are the second-most contagious thing in the US after the common cold. They can hold their breath for up to 8 hours, so merely washing everything will not be sufficient. Or you can freeze things like your hairbrush in a bag overnight...that will kill them. They WILL die if you get them hot enough, so scorching everything in the dryer will work. They reproduce in less than a week. Their bites only itch if you are allergic to them, so you might not know if you have them if you’re not allergic. They live mostly by the ears and at the crown of a person’s head. They are mostly transferred by people between 9-12 yrs of age, judging by the demographics the de-louser mentioned. They can travel eight inches per minute. They change from grey to rust colored when they’re full. It does not matter if your personal hygiene is perfect or you are a complete hygienic slob—lice are equal opportunists. They like O+ and A+ best; they will probably try to move to another person if you don’t have one of those two blood types. Lice cannot survive away from a head for more than 2-3 days. Nits can be confused with dandruff. And the grossest part is that if you have enough of them (yay for this not happening to me!) your hair can literally move with them as they crawl, so it looks like there is a fan on your head or special effects in your hair.

There’s something to be said for social grooming. Checking for lice is never a bad idea. I had never had them before and it was awful. I was emotionally traumatized. Thinking you have lice and knowing you have them are totally different things. I threw a fit and became an emotional crazy person when I found out. I was horrified. I felt unclean. There was nothing I could do. Why me? I didn’t deserve lice! That only happens to dirty people! Incidentally, N brought them to us and eventually HH got them, too. L was spared the indignity. He would have had to have been shaved bald—there’s no way he would have tolerated the treatment.

I hope none of you ever has occasion to be nit-picked. Every time my head itches, I’m still worried that she missed some and I will have to go through the trauma again. (No, I did not scorch my head with chemicals—I had the lice suffocated with silicon oil. I hear mayo and peanut butter work, too, but my hair has fully recovered and I am so happy about it.)

Bears

Last night I went to spend some time at the new house. We took the kids and a friend and stayed over. It was super rainy. Sheets of rain fell across the surface of the pond. 

I saw a heron, some other birds, and some squirrels.

I also saw something I did not expect to see: four small black bears. Tyler saw two and then called me over “to look at something.” I thought, “Deer?! Please no!” and came to look and stuck my head right by the window just as a motion sensor light came on. The bear’s head was less than a foot away from mine, separated by a pane of glass. It is hard to say which of us was more surprised. I kind of felt like Sal’s mother must have felt when she came upon the bear in the book. We stared at each other for a moment, too startled to move, and then he/she beat a hasty retreat. 

It was smaller than I expected it to be—that is, shorter. I had forgotten how much mass bears have. Its front legs were so thick—as big as my thighs, at least. (Since I have Danish heritage, the circumference is not small.) The bear’s muzzle was longer than I thought it would be. I wondered if bears’ noses are like those of humans—always growing. 

I have never seen a bear in its natural habitat before.