The Big Purge

First off, do not fear — the Big Purge in question is not preceded by a food binge. I’m talking the purging of stuff, and I am obsessed. “Hoarders” is so 2009; I am currently shopping around my brilliant reality show idea: “Purgers.” (I may rethink that name.) It will feature me, at my computer, as I list items on ebay, Craig’s List and Freecycle, as well as my trips to Mailboxes Etc to ship various items. I smell daytime Emmy!

Looking back, I spent much of my 20s and 30s amassing stuff. It started with parental hand-me-downs of couches and pots and pans, and continued with wedding gifts. Once I moved into a house with an attic it was all over; I don’t think I threw away anything for the next eight years. I’m not talking mementos like photo albums or my wedding dress. More like…well, boxes of totally outdated computer manuals, for example. Rolls of promotional movie posters from when my dad owned a video store. A huge (and weirdly pornographic-looking) electric back massager. A broken antique dress form. About 8000 cassette tapes. And much, much, much more. The thing about the attic is, it’s the attic. You can just shove stuff up there, shut the door, and not deal with it!

Until you have to deal with it. When we decided to move from that particular house, my husband worked long hours and I was in charge of packing, while at home with a non-sleeping infant. During one of her rare naps, I wandered around in the attic, so sleep-deprived and so, so freaked out. What was all this stuff? Apparently, it was ours, but then why hadn’t we needed any of it in the three years we’d lived there?!

In the end, I had to hire some guys to help me throw most of it out the attic window into a pick-up truck and haul it away. Somewhere north of Boston there is a landfill with my name on it. That’s the bad news. The good news is, I vowed to never let that happen again. Years later, I’ve stayed true to that promise. See? Sometimes OCD can work to your advantage — you just have to be compulsively obsessed with the right things!

In my current house there is, literally, nothing in the attic. Okay, that’s because there’s no real floor up there, but there’s also very little in the basement, where there is a floor. The garage, I will admit, could use some work — but it’s nothing to be ashamed about, and nothing I can’t handle with a spring yard sale or freecycle session. Ooh, I think I will begin my Ode to Freecycle now.

If you are not already on freecycle, I encourage you to check it out. It makes so much sense. The basic premise is that you have things you don’t want but someone else might want, so instead of throwing things into the landfill, why not offer them up?

Signing up is a bit clunky (it’s all volunteer-run) but once you’re in, all you do is send an email to your local group, stating what the item is. Hours, if not minutes, later you will have replies from people who are willing to come pick it up, whatever “it” is — or you can meet them somewhere if you don’t want people at your house.

A few of the items I’ve given away recently on freecycle: an orange cone (like for road work), an old wallet, a bar stool, a dog crate, some men’s dress shirts. Someone is coming today to pick up a clock radio I bought at Target years ago and then didn’t like and put in a closet and found this morning.

Sure, I could put this stuff on ebay or Craig’s List, but then I would have to take photos and write good descriptions and ship things, and I’d probably end up with $30 in the end. We all know that time is money. And no one ever complains on freecycle, because it’s free.

You can also request items, which I never thought I would do but did just this morning. What made me change my mind? I asked myself, Why would I buy more plastic Littlest Pet Shop figures when, surely, there’s someone local whose kid has outgrown theirs? If I’m not happy with the free ones for whatever reason, I can always put them back on freecycle.

Other items I’ve recently seen requested: a composter, Diego party decorations, wooden shutters, women’s ice skates size 8, and a waffle iron. Ya know, I think I had all of that in my old attic.

Live to Eat: Part 2 of 2

Image by Mike Licht, NotionsCapital.com via Flickr

Although I certainly didn’t mean to wait almost two months before writing the second part of Live to Eat (here’s the first part, in case you missed it), it probably worked out for the best because now I’ve had some time to give the whole “local meat only” thing a test. (Also, apparently, we are coming up on a little-known, week-long celebration of meat called, appropriately, Meat Week. How’s that for me being timely and topical?)

I’m sure that, in addition to your jobs, and dealing with winter and other stresses, you’ve been thinking of me often and wondering whether I survived on only local meat (although, I guess I wouldn’t be writing this if I hadn’t survived, so that may not be the nail-biter I was going for). You probably spent some sleepless nights, wondering whether my experiment would have a big impact on the future diet of my family. It was, frankly, rude of me to keep you out of the loop for this long.

In a nutshell: In the past eight weeks I have eaten meat probably two to three times a week (down from at least four-five servings), and I’d estimate that at least 80% of that meat was purchased at a local farm and prepared by me in my own home. Considering the major holidays that were celebrated during this time I was, frankly, impressed with myself. I was also surprised by how easy it was.

To be clear, part of why the experiment was so easy was that I was not hardcore about it. I still cooked soups and pastas with chicken stock, and a couple of times I shared entrees which contained meat and just left the meat for David. One time, when friends were over, I made a warm beet and bacon salad and it looked so good there as no way I was going to pass it up (it was, by the way, really really good — let me know if you want the recipe). And, lastly, I even totally forgot my experiment several times; I’d be socializing and perhaps drinking some wine and, without even thinking, I’d pop some meat-filled appetizer into my mouth. Whoops!

Overall, though, I’d say I decreased my meat intake by about 60%. And since I do almost all the cooking around here, David didn’t have much choice but to come along for the ride. (He does, however, hold a lot of business meetings over lunch, so for all I know he could be tearing up a rack of lamb or a Cornish game hen on a regular basis. If he is, more power to him; I’m not one to foist my experiments on anyone else.)

So, to re-cap: Blah blah blah local, blah blah blah yay me. Who cares, right? I mean, yes, I do feel a sense of satisfaction when I think about what I am not ingesting. But my diet was really quite healthy to begin with. Where we have real problems is with the diet of a certain someone else who lives here. Hint: It’s not me, or David, and it’s someone whose height is still measured in inches. And it’s not a dog.

I’ve noticed a couple of things about parents, their kids, and their kids’ diets. First, parents do not like to talk about what their kids will or will not eat; it somehow seems like a personal failure if your child does not love raw broccoli on top of brown rice. And second, once you do get the parents talking, you have opened the floodgates and you will hear some funny and some disturbing stories, many of which will involve projectile vomiting, and all of which will make you feel better.

I’ll start the true confessions. Here’s the biggee: My daughter does not like ANY vegetables. None. Not even corn-on-the-cob, not even if I melt orange cheez-product over them, no, no, none. I used to be able to sneak some in there in a meatloaf, but now that she is four+ she will examine anything on her plate — anything that is not a chicken nugget, white rice, or fruit — and point at the tiniest speak of green and say “What is THAT?” And once she has asked that question, it is over. Unless, of course, you are from that school that thinks kids should not be allowed to leave the table until they’ve eaten all the veggies. Insert projectile vomiting story here.

To make matters worse, the list of things that she will eat is constantly being edited. Example: Until recently, she would happily eat a hard-boiled egg (all “yellow part” had to be removed) but then, one day, she decided that didn’t like eggs, either. It is, conversely, rare for an item to be added to the list. This girl is stubborn like a mule (neither David nor I can figure out how that happened) and even my desperate pleas, like “ALL KIDS LIKE CORN ON THE COB!” are useless.

The point is, my daughter will not be joining the local meat experiment any time soon. We already have so many dietary constraints that I’m just happy I was able to switch her from the gross, dino-shaped nuggets to Bell and Evans. Seriously, a small triumph.

And that’s what were all about over here. The small triumphs.

[I'd love to hear about what you or your kids are eating or not eating. And, ya know, while I enjoy some parenting advice from time to time, I'm not so into it when it comes to the topic of food, since I really feel like I've tried everything and I'm doing the best I can -- and, also, that I was the same way at her age and it will all work out fine in the end -- so, if you would, please save the "Dora popsicle=child abuse" rants for one of those Moms-Being-Mean-to-Each-Other forums. There's plenty of them out there.]

Ten Good Things

Note: First thing this morning I stated that I would update my blog today. Cut to end of day: It’s New Year’s Eve, I have 45 minutes until it’s time to leave for dinner and I have not showered or changed…so, it looks like Part 2 of Live to Eat, which I was intending to write today,  will have to wait for another day (another life?) when I have more time.

For now, I will take the suggestion of my friend-and-neighbor, Jonathan Sherwood, and whip together a Top Ten list. Because anyone who has ever had a writing assignment knows that it requires way less thought to write a list. And that is good news because as I write this there is a dog trying to play a game with me, and a four-year-old having a full-blown conversation with me, despite the fact that I’ve plopped her in front of Fetch with Ruff Ruffman, her new fave. So without further ado, I present to you…

Me, in Mill Valley, August 2009.

Ten Good Things from 2009

Was 2009 a flawless year? HA! Not by a long shot. There’s a lot going on behind the scenes, as I’m sure is the case with many of you – things that never get posted to Facebook or Twitter. As we get older, life gets more difficult, fraught with losses too painful for words and challenges we never knew existed. But in a way, that’s what made me write this, as a reminder of all the excellent memories and accomplishments from 2009. It could also be called Ten Things for Which I Am Really Grateful. In no particular order:

1) Trip

We had an amazing trip to California in August. We visited the north and south, spent time reconnecting with friends we hadn’t seen in years, went boogey-boarding, swam, ate good food, and relaxed. It was truly one of the best trips of my life.

2) Escape

Last February, we spent the entire month in FL and, despite the utter weirdness of that entire state, it was spectacular to escape the cold and snow and swim in the perfectly heated pool every day. Lucy the bulldog was with us, and we spent lots of time with my parents. The drives down and back were actually fun, and we saw family along the way, as well as cities like Savannah and Charleston. A total adventure.

3) Garden

While in FL, David and I both read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and decided to plant a garden. In the end, David did 90% of the work but I greatly enjoyed the fresh produce all summer and into the fall. It changed the way we think about food and we are already planning next summer’s garden (golden beets, anyone?).

4) Tennis

A silly one, perhaps, but fun nonetheless — David and I separately started playing tennis earlier this year (me with my parents, and David with his friend Jeff) and it’s turned out to be a fun hobby that we can also do together. I got a sweet new stick for Christmas (that’s a racquet, if you’re not up on the lingo) and we joined an indoor club. We’ve already played a few times this month and while the suckage level is quite high at this point, it’s something I look forward to continuing in 2010.

5) Cooking

Another excellent new hobby of mine! It’s funny, because, historically, I’d always hated cooking — I mean, just the list of ingredients would make my back start to spasm, never mind all that chop, chop, chopping. These days, I am on a cooking and baking tear. I’m constantly looking for new recipes and learning new things about combinations and techniques. And the pay-off comes in numerous ways: we eat better, we save money, and I have fun!

7) Izzy

On a sad note, 2009 was the year I lost my Lucy, and I still miss her all the time. I knew I could never replace Lucy, but aside from missing her specifically, I also found that after about six months I also just missed having a dog. What can I say — I just love having a four-legged friend here, lazing around and making me laugh. And despite all my claims that “my next dog will just be a pet: no sleeping on the furniture, no expensive food, no falling in love ” (me with it, that is), along came Izzy with the ridiculous spot over her eye and I was left powerless. She can be a naughty puppy for sure, but ask anyone who has met her: The Izzer is gentle and mellow and a great addition to the family.

8) Work

Oh, wait — you didn’t think I meant ME and work, did you?! Hahaha: NO. I am in early retirement. I meant David. He’s had some great professional success this year, well deserved after all his years in the trenches. He is currently the founder and CEO of his new venture, Performable, and I am really happy for him.

9) Milestones

Oh, uhm, I turned 40 this year — I guess it’s debatable whether that’s a good thing, but I think we get to choose so I’m going to say YES. David and I also had our ten-year wedding anniversary and that one is more black-and-white. (It’s good.) In addition, Caralena turned four this year and it is such a fun age. The thing about these milestones is that they make you think, about what you want and what you have and I can never think about any of that stuff without coming to the same conclusion: Man, I am lucky.

10) Friends

People can talk all they want about how FB is lame, and silly “older” people like me have taken it over to talk about our lame lives blah blah blah. I say, FB is as good as the friends you have who also use it. I have had a blast on FB this year, reconnecting with “long-lost” friends from high school and college and NYC, and receiving great recommendations on books, recipes, Christmas gifts and way more. I’ve seen new babies, heard happy and sad news, and bantered with people as if we hadn’t been out of touch for 10-20 years, and I’ve loved all of it. I look forward to hearing more from all of you soon.

Happy New Year!

Live to Eat: Part 1 of 2

This morning, my four-year-old daughter asked me, “Do steaks grow on trees?” (I have since been notified by a friend that this was a “Martha Speaks” reference. If you’re not in the know, “Martha Speaks” is a PBS show about a dog who ate some alphabet soup and now can talk. It’s cute, as far as these things go.)

When I replied that, actually, steaks come from cows, she started laughing and said, “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” Normally, this may not have jumped out at me, but her timing is very interesting (even if it is coincidental, again because of the talking dog) because she hit on a topic that has been very much on my mind lately, and that is my life as a carnivore.

But first, a few words about me and food in general:

I love food.

I love eating food, drinking food, making food, talking about food, and reading about food. I even love tweets and Facebook posts about food — it makes me happy to hear what my friends are eating, and I’ve exchanged some great recipes via Twitter and FB.

For me, the answer to the question, “Do you eat to live, or live to eat?” is so obvious that the question need not be asked. The same goes for many of my close friends, and I don’t think that is a coincidence. For me, any version of the perfect evening would necessarily include a great meal.

I’ve already written about the food-intake changes we’ve gone through over here; between our participation in a CSA (summer and winter shares now), David’s constant bread baking, my new-found love for cooking and baking, and David’s amazing garden we are on a specific path.

I guess what is happening now is a logical next step on that path, albeit a more difficult one. The issue I’m struggling with is this: If I care so much about where my produce, milk, bread, and eggs comes from and what may be sprayed all over it, how could I not care about the meat I eat?

Recent books, such as Jonathan Safran Foer’s “Eating Animals,” and recent movies, such as “Food Inc.” have stoked my fire, although, in the nature of full disclosure, I should say that I have not read or seen either work in its entirety. I almost don’t need to — just hearing Foer’s interview on WBUR’s “On Point,” or seeing the NOW interview with filmmaker Robert Kenner was enough to get me on board on a few basic points:

- When we eat “factory farm” meat (99% of all meat eaten in the US, according to Foer), we are eating meat that lived and died inhumanely, and

- we are contributing to the #1 source of global warming, and

-we are eating animals that have most likely been injected with antibiotics, and who walked around in the dark, in their own feces, stepping on other sick or dead animals.

I know: Gross. Sorry. To make it even worse, you’ll see that I’ve presented a trifecta: One ethical issue, one environmental issue, and one health issue.

To his credit, Foer does a great job (in this interview, anyway — I’ve heard him called “self-righteous” and worse in various reviews) of reminding us that there is a whole world between meat-eaters and vegetarians. (Interestingly, actress Natalie Portman read his book and immediately went vegan.)

About two weeks ago, when I decided to start working towards a diet that is free of factory farm meat, I entered this “whole world,” or gray area; I am not a vegetarian and I actually have no plans to become a vegetarian. As it is, I’m sure I eat less meat than most Americans (that’s not saying much), but when I go out I usually have a nice piece of beef or fish. I guess I won’t be doing that anymore. I didn’t even have turkey on Thanksgiving. (Yes, I realize how pathetic that sounds but it just further illustrates how meat has become so important and ubiquitous that wankers like me can skip one portion and act righteous.)

To drive home this point, Foer states, in the “On Point” interview: “”The essential question is not, ‘Is it right or wrong to eat animals?’ That is a distracting question…The important question is, ‘Is it right to do the things we’re doing? Is this farming system something we can stomach? Is it something we want to support with our money and, in effect, with our votes?’”

His real-life examples are great. He talks about how, if you knew that your neighbor had a pregnant pig in their basement, left in total darkness in a cage so small that the pig couldn’t turn even around, and it was never allowed fresh air and had never been outside, you would likely call animal control in your town. It is unlikely that you would give your neighbor some money to support the cause. (My addition: You probably wouldn’t put your name on a list to get some of the bacon, either. Remember, the pig is standing it its own poop and always has been.)

And, in case you’re wondering, the answer is yes, I do see that this is a slippery slope of ethics and opinions and misinformation. Truthfully, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m guessing that most vegetarians would argue that I’m not doing enough, and most average American carnivores would argue that, well, meat is delicious and I should shut up and keep eating it.

I say I haven’t eaten factory farm meat in two weeks but that’s not really true — I’ve eaten soups that are made with chicken stock. Can I really omit chicken stock? Do I have to? Of course not — I don’t have to do any of this. But now that I’ve really spent some time thinking about that nasty meat in the supermarket, I don’t think I could eat even a juicy burger without wondering what “extras” I was consuming.

Plus, I have way more choices than 99% of the world’s population. My farm stand sells meat from a local farm (you know, a place where animals walk around outside and eat grass and are not injected with drugs), so, for a premium, that is what I’ll be eating when I crave meat. And a new vegetarian take-out just opened in my town; I had a delicious stuffed pepper from there for lunch today. So, you know, I won’t go hungry (I’m sure you were concerned).

But I don’t know what to do about the chicken stock — sorry to obsess, but I use it to cook everything! And while I’m asking questions, have I ruined any restaurant meal for the rest of my life? And what do I do about the whole fish situation? Jeepers.

At this point, what I’m saying is quite simple. I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything, because I’m not that person. (And, in turn I hope that no one will try to talk to me about how, if I’m going to eat meat from the local farm , I might as well eat my own dog, because that connection is not there for me.) Who knows, maybe I will give up after two more weeks, but I doubt it; I haven’t eaten at McDonald’s in years, not since I really thought about what I was ingesting when I ate there.

For now, all I’m saying is this: I will pay attention to what I “live to eat.”

(Part 2 of 2 will bring the focus back to my daughter and her eating habits, and the inevitable discussion about chickens and chicken.)

Your Baby Definitely Can’t Read. Sorry.

But she may be able to vacuum.

I know that those of us who noticed the story were shocked – shocked! — last week, when it was widely reported that the Walt Disney Company is extending a refund program for its “Baby Einstein” videos. Apparently – and, again, I cannot stress how stunned I am by this  - when babies are strapped into their little vibrating chairs and plunked in front of a television to watch these supposedly educational videos, they actually do not become geniuses.

In fact, if I had to guess what is the biggest goal achieved by the babies who watched the videos, I would say that these babies were the ones with the cleanest, most exfoliated and shiny-haired mothers. Why? Because that’s the only thing that anyone in her right mind would be looking for in a video for babies: Fifteen minutes to take a shower. And, as someone who really, really needs to take a shower every single day, I support that goal. Let’s just not make it into anything loftier than it is.

Are consumers really going to return the “Baby Einstein” DVDs for refunds? Clearly a rhetorical question – of course they are! It’s free money – I might even see if I have any left over in a drawer somewhere.  And, let’s face it, I live in a country where people sue McDonald’s because they are obese. Ostensibly, all we need is to buy some products — videos, diets, creams and enhancers — and we will be rich, thin, beautiful, smart, and sexually satisfied. And if anything goes wrong, we can always sue the pants off someone.

All of which leads me to a little something knows as YBCR; or, if you’re fortunate enough to be out of this loop, Your Baby Can Read. The YBCR web site promises “enhanced learning ability” and “future success” — that last one should set off a Liberty-size warning bell, but judging by the testimonials on the web site or on Amazon, people are eating it up and I’m sure Dr. Titzer, the creator, is rolling in the dough. (My favorite comment on Amazon begins like this (the writer is referring to her baby): “He  didn’t immediately take to the dvds, but after a couple of weeks of forcing him to watch them…” Forcing your baby to watch DVDs? Well, that’s just good parenting!)

The line-up of videos shows babies “reading” words aloud off of cards. Or, if they are too small to actually say the words, but so smart that they have learned how to read, they can just point to something, like their toes, and mumble something along the lines of “Tssssssoooooooh.” Genius!

Aa quick Google search reveals that even Dr. Titzer, the creator of the videos, admits that the babies in the videos are not actually reading. I hope it goes without saying (so now I will say it) that the babies have memorized the words they are “reading.” Even parents who swear by the videos admitted that their children could only, uhm, “read” the words they had learned in the program. In other words, they have no actual reading skills at all.

It’s honestly difficult to know where to begin the critique of such inanity. I guess we could start in the Land of Make Believe, by pretending the product actually works and babies — little “goo-goo, ga-ga” BABIES — can learn how to read. Might I ask what is the point is of their reading? Are they going to read your neglected New Yorkers and summarize articles for you? Are they going to get little baby jobs at the library or food store to bring in some extra diaper money? And, speaking of diapers, maybe we could flash the babies a sign that reads “If you can read this, please stop taking a dump in your pants.”

I’m no child development expert, but I am a parent and I believe that qualifies me to ask, What could possibly be the point of spending all that time with your baby, hours you will never recover, forcing them to memorize the shapes of various words? It makes me sad, and mad. Babies are supposed to learn how to point at things and pick up objects. They are supposed to laugh and babble and drool and be babies. The best thing you can do is read to them, play with them, and speak to them in your normal adult voice.

If, when they are a little older, they show a lot of interest in letters and rhyming and reading, then, sure, start sounding out those letters and playing word games! Maybe you will develop a life-long lover of books, like me (who, by the way, learned to read in first grade).

If there is any part of you that think it’d be better to put it a Your Baby Can Read DVD, here is another link for you: It’s called Ultimate Colon Cleanse, and it will rid you of internal parasites that you didn’t even know you had! It must be true because they have this amazing story on the web site, about a man who fathered children when he was 130 years old — crazy!

Ah, what the hell: Here’s a link to the Church of Scientology, too. I’m not sure why, but it just feels right.

How to Survive this Winter: A Self-Help Guide

(Our front door last winter.)

Anyone who has spoken with me for longer than eighteen seconds is aware that I have struggled with winter, in a profound way, for years now. The problem? Well, I don’t ski or snowboard (or want to), I like to go ice skating and sledding maybe once a year, I get depressed by the lack of sun, I feel claustrophobic in my house, and I become a freakishly obsessive germophobe.

While I’m sure we would all agree that I am at least somewhat charming during the other three seasons, winter transforms me into a totally miserable louse and I’m pretty sure that I make everyone around me miserable, too – and if I don’t, it’s not for lack of trying.

One might even suggest that, perhaps, New England is not the best place for me. And one is probably correct. But for numerous reasons that would probably be an entire entry of their own, I am here for at least another winter. Or two. Maybe more. I feel completely nauseous just typing that.

Knowing that this is the case, I am trying really hard to make winter less soul-crushing than in recent years. It is part of my recent campaign to Take Charge of My Life, and to start making positive decisions that are all about me, and what I want to do! It’s about synergy, it’s about re-branding, it’s about alignment and it’s about monetization. (It’s also possible that it is about none of those things.) And it all starts here, with identifying the specific issues, and then – are you even ready for this? – finding possible solutions.

It’s not going to work, you say? Yeah, you’re probably right. But what the hell am I supposed to do? It’s October 18th and my car is covered with snow. So here goes nothing. My guide on How to Survive Winter.

Problem #1: Winter seems endless and there’s nothing to do.

Solution: Schedule time and cultivate interests!

You’ve probably gathered by now that I do not hold a traditional job. If we’re going to be sticklers about labels, like “employed” and “unemployed,” I would have to say that I am the latter. I certainly have many responsibilities, but my duties are more things that can be done at various, flexible times. Come winter, I need to schedule all this free-form time. I’m talking yoga twice a week, I’m talking tennis on a regular basis, I’m talking no-cancel movie nights with friends, I’m talking self-imposed writing hours. Schedulization will make the days, weeks, and months fly by. I am certain of it. And, if not, I will at least amuse myself by using the word “schedulization.”

Problem #2: I loathe the extreme cold and darkness.

Solution: Turn on the heat!

David loves to tell people how cold I keep our house in the winter. His favorite stories are about me wearing a ski hat or a fleece jacket to bed (both true). What can I say? When I was growing up – in a house built in 1702 – and I told my mom that it was cold, she said “Put on a sweater.” When I said I was already wearing a sweater, she said, “Put on another sweater.” And that was that! I put a sweater on over my sweater! Heat became, to me, a luxury. And, I know, it is a luxury! But it is a luxury to which I have access and so, along with being very grateful that it’s there, this year I am also going to turn on the heat. In addition, we have scheduled an independent energy audit, which will likely result in the purchase of one or more of the following: a pellet stove, storm doors, blown-in insulation, those thingees that regulate radiators, or an entirely new heating system. One way or another, though, this mofo is going to be blazing this year.

Problem #3: Food options suck in winter. Weight gains abound.

Solution: Obtain good food.

We were, admittedly, spoiled this summer with David’s great garden and the summer CSA share and, once you’ve eaten that amazing, fresh food, it is very difficult to go back to pre-packaged crap and a typical all-carbs diet. So this year we have signed up for our farm’s winter share, so there will be fresh veggies all up in here, and David has also agreed to grant my wish for fresh herbs grown under the grow lights in the basement. Between that and a freezer filled with high-quality meat (which we still need to get) I will feel like we can eat the same healthy stuff that we ate, and loved, this summer, even in a blizzard. I will still be feeling all stabby when my West Coast friends tweet, in February, about riding their bikes to the farmer’s market to buy all manner of unavailable-to-me fruits but I will just have to be happy as I gnaw on my parsnip, or whatever. If they really loved me, they wouldn’t write about that stuff in the first place.

Problem #4: I become paralyzed by fear of illness.

Solution: Therapy? Medication? Hmm.

I’m not really sure what to say about this one. I’ve already decided that I will have my daughter stay home – for as long as necessary – if anything obvious is lurking at the school. I busted out the Lysol for a pre-season clean-and-spray, I bought a new thermometer, I use the free “cart wipes” at the supermarket, and I carry anti-bacterial wipes and gel in my bag. We will not go to any indoor playground/museum/playspace etc. from now until spring. This one, though, is dicey. I am definitely accepting suggestions. I have admitted that I have a problem, which, I’m told, is the first step.

Problem #5: I hate winter. See all of the above.

Solution: Plan trips to warm destinations.

I am all over this one – I have a good recommendation for a Jamaican resort, so that will cover the slightly cheesy, all-inclusive, water park trip. And then I believe there will still be room for a jaunt to the west coast, or perhaps back to Austin, or maybe south of the border? Remains to be seen. Florida will be in there somewhere, too. It is fun to plan trips and even more fun to go on them. I do plan to invest in travel insurance this year. See #4.

And, with these techniques, I do believe I will survive. As an aside, it was recently discovered that I have a vitamin-D deficiency. I am currently taking supplements but I’m going to assume that this has also played a role in my SAD. Who knows, maybe I will actually thrive – but the goal, again, is just to survive. I’d love to hear your tips.

Me & the TV

When I can tear myself away from the latest Utne Reader and when no one is available to play chess by candlelight, I do, I confess, watch an occasional program on the idiot box.

I’m exaggerating, of course. But TV just hasn’t been a big part of my life, at least not since I was young and the sitter watched her shows for the entire eight (daytime) hours that my parents were at work. Thanks to her, I could probably identify more of the women who presented the prizes on “The Price is Right,” than I could, say, actors from “Dallas,” a show which most people my age watched (on purpose, I’m pretty sure).

During grade school I watched the same stuff that everyone was watching: “Happy Days” and “Laverne and Shirley.” “The Love Boat” and “Fantasy Island” on Saturdays. Maybe some “Eight is Enough?” Nothing that really stuck with me.

My high school was a boarding school with only one TV that I remember, located in the student lounge. We had about 45 minutes of free time at night after study hall – 45 short minutes when we could hang out with friends and make out with girl/boyfriends. The TV was pretty much ignored. These were, I believe, the “Miami Vice” days. I have never seen even one episode.

In college we were too busy protesting and deconstructing and drinking to bother with much television. I do remember watching the Gulf War, which was odd, and also  ”Dawson’s Creek” – but only in an ironic, anthropological kind of way, of course (again, the deconstructing). But usually we watched movies on VHS. We, like Dawson, were film majors, after all.

My years spent in New York and Boston were so busy and fun and crazy that I can only remember one show that mattered and that was “Party of Five.” Po5: So unbelievably juicy and wildly manipulative; my then-boyfriend, now-husband used to call it “Party of Crap.” I cried like a baby during the finale. And then there was “Seinfeld,” so important, so ground-breaking… I hope I never see it again.

And that brings me to the Adult Me. Adult Me is watching some TV – still, not a lot by national standards, but I do have my shows (see below) that I watch on a regular basis. But is it sad that my TV watching has ramped up in the past five-ten years?

I don’t think so, considering the degree to which the quality of programming has also skyrocketed. Of course, I devoured “The Sopranos,” the early seasons of “24,” “Lost,” and “Six Feet Under” (best series ending montage ever. EVER!). Some day, I may even delve into “The Wire,” which some male members of my family consider to be the best show of all time. I do feel, though, that it is not the right show for me right now.

These days it is more about time, or lack thereof. We only own one TV which is off during the day, but gets switched on when Caralena watches her shows (yes, my kid watches TV and although she watches some good stuff like “Word World,” she also loves annoying fluff like “Max and Ruby,” which you cannot convince me is educational. But hey, she’s busy and active all day and needs to wind down – wait! Why am I defending myself? That’s a whole other blog post, one that I probably will never write.). Basically the TV is available from 8pm until when I go to bed. Two hours later.

On the very few occasions when I do turn on the TV and just flip through the channels, I end up being either pissed off (Fox News, and all those shows about “green construction,” where annoying home owners congratulate themselves for making a backsplash out of recycled glass while never recognizing that, unless your original backsplash was made of asbestos, it actually isn’t all that “green” to tear out a bunch of stuff that was totally fine and functional), or bored (shows about people putting in a new patio or shrub, or people who have buttloads of kids), or embarrassed to be alive (”Real Housewives of Atlanta”).

All of which was a long introduction to a short list of…

Fall Shows I Am Watching:

Glee: I’m not really at a point in my life where I’m looking for a lot of heaviness in my TV entertainment – I pretty much get that from regular life – so “Glee,” for me, is just what the doctor ordered. (I am having a little OCD issue where I cannot get the songs out of my head for days, which sounds silly but when I’m screaming “Streetlights…Pee-ee-poh-oh-oh-OHL!!” in my head at 4am it’s not so fun.) The song choices so far have been spot on, and it was some great casting to pull people from Broadway who have giant singing voices. I will admit that while I love the show now, I can see how I could get tired of the one liners and (purposefully, I’m aware) cliche characters. But for now, “Glee” is on my must-see list.

Mad Men: After all that crazy promoting I thought that this season of “Mad Men” was going to be a home run. Instead it has been…odd. But that is not necessarily a bad thing. For sure, the pacing has been erratic and characters seem to be featured and then suddenly dropped (like Joan – I want more Joan!), but hopefully it’ll all come together a little more in the weeks to come. I get that everyone is unsettled at Sterling Cooper and in their private lives but things have been eerily somber. If Don Draper’s world crashes around him, the show will either crash and burn or go to the next level. Remains to be seen.

Project Runway: For the most part, “Project Runway” has survived the move to Lifetime and Los Angeles. Heidi looks the same, Tim is still around, the challenges and overall format are basically the same. The biggest problem I’m having is the sporadic participation of Michael Kors and Nina Garcia. (I’m guessing they used to be able to just hop in a cab to judge the runway shows and it hasn’t worked out for them to hop on a flight every time.) They are definitely missed. Still, I like this show for the same reasons I always liked it: It’s fun to see what the designers come up with. That’s it! Deep, no?

Top Chef: I love this show. I don’t know why it works, since we obviously can’t taste, or even smell, any of the food that’s prepared. Somehow the combination of the personalities (although there aren’t many exciting people this season), the challenges, and seeing how much work goes into the preparation and presentation of a good dish makes for good TV.

I also watch “30 Rock,” which hasn’t started yet, and “Now” on PBS, which seems to not fit in on this list but I like for its non-hysterical coverage of various issues.

And on that note, off to watch “Glee,” then upstairs to read. Because let’s face it, even though I’ve now spent over an hour writing about television, a good book trumps most shows any day.

Dinnah

I don’t usually brag about dinner; frankly, there is usually nothing much to brag about. Not that we’re eating Hot Pockets over here, but it’s usually the standard grilled meat, stir-fried veggies and so on – tasty, but not something I need to share with the world.

But tonight, World, I nailed it, with a deceptively simple dinner of a mixed greens salad and a risotto with carrots, sage, white wine and lemon juice. The risotto was so good that I was eating the remnants out of the pan seconds before submerging it in water to soak.

It would be a bold move for me to take all the credit, though, since the carrots, sage, and greens were all from David’s garden. And that got me thinking…well, many things.

First of all, a tip of the hat to Farmer Cancel, a guy who had never lived anywhere other than an apartment until after we were married. (If you ask him the story of his life from birth to college it goes something like this: Born in the Bronx, then moved to Queens, lived in Queens, Catholic school in Queens, Queens College, in Queens.)

When David started baking bread last year I warned him, “You better be careful, Queens might not like this.” Then, this summer, when the garden was planted, I told him that Queens had called to say that, sadly, he was disowned. When you eat a vegetable in Queens it’s supposed to have come from a can, or it might not be safe.

I just turned my head to look out the window at the garden. In the six raised beds (yes, David built them) I’m looking at loads of carrots, huge heirloom tomato plants (all green tomatoes, but a couple of weeks from now I’ll be trying to give them to the UPS man and random people walking by with their dogs), beets, broccoli, lettuce, and a bunch of Nasturtiums. We’ve already been through the peas – delicious, and so far from a supermarket pea, it is almost ridiculous for them to have the same name – as well as the month when we had so much lettuce that we sent a message to the neighborhood email list, pretty much begging people to come take some.

Now we’re two-thirds of the way through The Summer That Wasn’t (even if you don’t live in New England, you probably heard about how it was cold and rainy until recently, and now it’s hot and humid) and we’re gearing up for a two-week vacation that will put us on the fast track to September.

I know we can coast through that month with some carrots and beets but, after that, we’re winding down and looking ahead to another absurdly long, barely tolerable winter. A winter where our CSA winter share will provide us with potatoes and garlic and onions and some other root vegetables. So…that’s good.

But if I’m being honest, what I’m realizing now is that this little garden – along with Barbara Kingsolver and my CSA – has changed the way I think about food and I don’t want to go back. I love knowing my farmers, the CSA guys (one of whom is getting married on the farm next weekend and invited us to the big party) and my own, personal farmer.

I love having the beds outside which, as I’ve said, I take no credit for (in my defense, David went all David with computer-generated, color-coded planting charts and grow lights in the basement and there wasn’t a hell of a lot I could do). I adore going outside to pick my salad in the evening, minutes before I eat it. I don’t want it to end.

If you know me well, you might be smiling, thinking that I didn’t really need another reason to hate winter. That’s how I feel, too. But let’s not think about that just yet. We still have a few good weeks of gathering our dinner outside the door.

Anyway, it’s a nice night, and my farmer just refilled my wine. Everyone’s happy after a good dinner.

‘ello, Guvna!

This afternoon, I sat at a small table with five other people and chatted with Deval Patrick, the Governor of Massachusetts.

The Governor was on his way to a town hall-style meeting in the next town over, so this was just a pop-in to meet with a few Joe Citizens. (My friend, Rebecca, has campaigned for the Governor and invited me to come say hello.)

There were no prepared remarks and, other than the security guys standing in the back of the room and the photographer from the local paper, there was not a lot of hoopla. I didn’t really say much, but mostly because the conversation was flowing and I wanted to hear what the Governor had to say.

The good news is that it was interesting. Gov. Patrick has an air of confidence, intelligence, and geniality. In response to comments about the endless push-and-pull in our town (and probably every town), the Governor talked about his last campaign, and the powerful grassroots feeling of that time. He said that one of his biggest lessons thus far has been that we must figure out a way to retain that feeling of “We’re all working together towards a common goal” AFTER the election is over. His words were, I believe, “We need not just grassroots campaigns, but grassroots government.”

And with that, I think the the Guvna hit the proverbial nail on the head. There is a total (cheesy word alert) disconnect between regular people and their lives and what is going on at the state and national level. I may even call the New York Times and let them know about it.

Let’s take me, for example. I consider myself a Good Citizen. I pay taxes (I=David in this scenario), I care about my neighborhood and town. Just this week I made a small donation and became a Friend of the Library (I know: Yay, me! My $25 will save everything!). I know the Mayor and, in fact, will host him at my house tomorrow evening for a “meet and greet” with some neighbors. I held signs on election day. I have a child who will, possibly, be in the public school system in town. On paper, I seem to be exactly the type of person who would get more involved and maybe volunteer for a committee, or something.

Which brings me to the bad news: I’m probably not going to.

Why? Well, for starters, because I look at Government, whether it be local or state or national, and what I see is a machine. I see decent people who want to make changes, and who think they will actually be able to make changes, and then they just get demolished by the machine. Even the Governor today said that the problem with getting things done in Massachusetts is not a Republican versus Democrat issue; he thinks it’s all about who you know or don’t know.

I read the local paper online and, when I am feeling particularly masochistic, I read the comments. Seriously, it’s enough to make me want to move to – where? I don’t know. Sweden? – immediately. And I am told I live in one of the most progressive states in the country! Under an editorial in today’s paper on the topic of our particularly contentious library issue here in town, some idiot has written “Kommie Kezer and his Klowncil cannot be trusted, period.” (Our Mayor’s name is Thatcher Kezer.) There are retorts and replies from all sorts of wackadoodles and, honestly, I can feel my blood pressure rise as I read it. Yeah, there is no way I could be in the thick of it on a daily basis.

Bleak stuff, eh, Guvna? Now I’m talking myself down from the edge. Trying, desperately to end on a high note…Oh, wait, I’ve got something.

I just remembered that I sat down with Deval Patrick today. And I’m hosting the Mayor tomorrow. (And then there’s that 25 clams I gave to the library!) Maybe I’m not as jaded or apathetic as I think? So I’m not going to run for school committee – but I did sign someone’s papers today so that she can run for school committee, and it was someone I actually know and could call up with an issue. It’s all feeling downright grassrootsy!

How we could ever replicate that feeling on a state or national level is beyond me (yes, I am aware I can email and fax my representatives)…(silence). But giving up is not the answer either. It is also very likely that I will end up on a Libertarian recruitment list soon, but I just took their online quiz and they are, ultimately, not going to want me.

In conclusion and for the record, I liked Deval Patrick. Sorry to bust out this harebrained word, but he had a good vibe. His obvious intelligence and personality remind me of another elected official, someone a little higher up the food chain, someone who may also need to start asking, “How do I get the groovy grassroots love back?”

Countdown to the New Me

It is just five-and-a-half weeks until my big trip to the West Coast where, along with the beauty of San Francisco and the drive down the coast to LA, I will also be seeing friends I haven’t seen in many, many years. I am so excited! And, also, nervous. Thinking about seeing friends from college makes me think about college, and me in college, and how I looked in college and the ensuing years in NYC. And then that makes me think about how, somewhere along the journey from 20 to 40, things changed and Me now does not look like Me in my twenties.

Apparently, I have “aged,” but whatever – the point is this: I have 38 days to get everything back to the way it was 20 years ago.

I will need to start by losing 10-12 pounds. To that end, I have cut back on my wine consumption, which I have identified as the black cloud in the otherwise clear sky of my diet. (Truly, as far as meals go, I do pretty well. Yogurt and fruit for breakfast, grilled meat and fresh veggies for dinner. We all know I have a wicked sweet tooth but if you tell me that a couple tiny Ginger Snaps from Trader Joe’s at 10:30pm is my downfall, I will…well, I probably wont’ do anything. Yeah, I’m actually certain that I won’t.)

So, yes, I have cut back! The decrease in intake may be subtle – it may even be what some people call “negligible” – but I’m going for it and I’m enthused and expecting results! Any day now.

I also, as you may have read on Facebook, went jogging a few days ago. Jogging is something I do every 14 years or so, just to make sure that I can. It usually works out okay – I jog a mile-and-a-half or so, and then once I’m feeling confident that I could run on a regular basis if I wanted to, I stop and don’t do it again for the next 14 years.

You know when brides-to-be decide that they will use the wedding as the reason why they will finally lose that extra 10 pounds? Yeah, that never works. So, you know what? Screw it. if I haven’t lost the ten pounds in the four years since I had a baby, I’m not going to lose it before this trip. I will just buy bigger clothing.

Since I’m not going to lose weight, I should really concentrate on these wrinkles. I have significant wrinkles all around my eyes which I swear all appeared during just this last year (that actually makes total sense and is not at all shocking) and I am guessing I will need some really expensive eye cream to fix them. Expensive eye cream is a great example of Something I Would Have Bought a Year Ago, when I had a job and cash (other examples would be, uhm, hard cover books, clothing from Anthropologie, and frequent massages). (Hey, remember when people had cash and went out to dinner and bought stuff? I miss that. That was fun.)

Okay, so screw it, I’m not going to order some stupid eye cream that probably won’t work anyway, so I’m going to just go with the wrinkles and I can wear some of those big-ass sunglasses (speaking of big ass – wait, no, we covered that). So I’ll be a little chubby and I’ll have the wrinkles. But you know what I can do? I can whiten my teeth.

I know some people do the fancy teeth whitening at the dentist or the salon. I’m not one of those people. I am talking Crest Whitening strips, which I will probably forget to do until the night before the trip, which is actually fine since no over-the-counter whitener is going to do anything to counteract the red wine and coffee that I drink daily. When you get right down to it, I’m sure you’d agree that I shouldn’t even waste my money.

I did make an appointment to get a hair cut and color a few days before the trip. And I will sneak in a pedicure and brow waxing, too. I don’t need to worry too much about the hair situation because I have a great hairdresser who I’ve gone to for years and there was only the one “Pat Benetar” incident, and that was so many years ago, I’m certain that nothing like that will happen on the week of my very big trip. As for the brow waxing, really, what could possibly go wrong there?

So, West Coast friends, when you see me in August, please look down at my toes, which will very likely look just as they did twenty years ago.

What’s that you say? You, too, are less taut, with, perhaps, a vein here and there on the leg and a bunion from time to time? What once was up is now down?! This is excellent news! I am so, so excited to see you all soon.