I'm talking about it ... period

So, if you are not interested in my bitching about my period and all that entails, sayanara. And if you are, then welcome to my world, as they say.

Like many women, I enjoyed a rather benign state of periodhood for the majority of my life. Every 28 days like clockwork, no exceptions besides pregnancy, I would get my period. It would arrive for a few days, and then it would leave. I had no PMS, I had nothing other than the inconvenience of having to have a few tampons on hand, and that was it.

When I entered my 40's, I noticed small changes. Like cramps. And then breast tenderness. Suddenly my period had a whole set of "reminders" in place, just in case I couldn't count out 28 days. And then ... then the bleeding became unpredictable. When I say unpredictable, I don't mean it showed up on day 23 with the announcement of a drop or two. I mean it came in on a wave of gushing announcement that instantly changed my life. No longer could a couple of tampons swimming about my pocketbook keep me safe. No, now I suddenly needed the biggest tampon on the market (OB super-ultra cannons) and boxes of them, along with heavy duty pads and a change of clothes.

WTF?

Any woman who has gone through this has their stories: My first time, I was in TJ Maxx with Maddie about four years ago, so she was 12. We were school shopping when I felt that now all too familiar feeling of WHOOOOOOOOOOOOSH. I looked down at the floor, nope, hadn't progressed to that point yet, but that gives you an idea of the force, I was sure I'd just left a puddle by my feet. I started walking up and down the aisles in search of Maddie, and the movement was wreaking havoc. She had an armful of clothes and I yelled at her to hurry. As we approached the front where the cashiers were, I knew things were not good, and I grabbed a pair of hot pink terry sweatpants that just happened to be hanging on a rack as I walked by. And after I paid (and inquired if there was a restroom, which there was not) I scanned the parking lot and saw a Panera. THERE, I pointed to Maddie, I am headed there. Please put the bags in the car and empty one out with the exception of the pink pants, I ordered her, and made my way, drip by drip, to the restaurant, only hoping that no one would actually look at me.

I rushed to the bathroom and I won't go into minute details, but it involved Maddie handing over wads of wet paper towels and me commandeering a stall for like 20 minutes. Once I'd cleaned up the gore and dressed myself in my sexy pink terry sweatpants, I emerged thinking that I would stick out like a sore thumb. Except that I didn't! All about Panera were women wearing really ugly bottoms. I just hoped that they were in the same position as I was, because my terry pants had one purpose in life, to get me home. Then they were trashed!

This type of experience has continued with no pattern ever since, and all across the country I have disposed of undergarments that made it look as though I had murdered someone. Of course I am reinforced with super-duty paraphernalia at all times, but not always, because the days of predictability are long gone. What used to be a guaranteed 12-period a year existence has now turned into upwards of 15 lovely experiences a year. I mean, how lucky are we women that we not only get to have babies and somehow figure out how to survive that; then we get to enter this ridiculous phase called "peri-menopause" for however long and just bleed all the fricking time. And my husband wonders why I often find myself in a bad mood. Well why the hell not? I have no clothes that don't contain some remnant of a super-duper blow out, all of my sheets, including my top-of-the-line over-the-top in price ones -- ALL RUINED -- an exciting event for me is finding more than one box of the cannon-sized tampons in a drug store -- because apparently many women in my position are hunting for them too. Used to be we were hunting down Cabbage Patch dolls for our children; now we are looking for tampons.

It's pathetic. Yesterday I blew out my back cleaning the shower. Which is odd, because it's not like it's an activity I haven't done before. But I didn't really blow out my back, it is just a new symptom that has entered my world; because my period walked in right after that. Did I have any reminders? Oh, sure, my boobs have been killing me for well over a week, worse than usual, I've had some cramps and a quick check on the calendar said 23 (or 24 or 25 or 26 or 27 days, since it falls on any of those) was right around the corner. So, lucky me, this is my second period of August and it came on day 22 with the worst backache of my life, so bad I thought my back was out. But no, it's period-related. AND WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN A BAD MOOD? Why the hell not?

I take maca powder, which greatly reduces all of these symptoms. But I have been running low for weeks now, so I have been using less. STUPID. STUPID STUPID STUPID. If I take it religiously, I can even escape with no symptoms (well not the excessive bleeding, but all the other crap).

I'm not really in a bad mood, but when I am bleeding profusely and changing tampons every half an hour and I can hardly get out of a chair because my back hurts so much and someone asks me if I am going to do anything today, well then pardon me for snapping at them to shut up. Do exactly what? Clean the goddamn shower? Go singing in the rain? Fuck that. I am going to wallow in my misery as long as I damn well feel like it, because it's all I got.

That and only half a box of the cannon tampons. Already, I am screwed and it's not even noon.

And that's it for now.

PERIOD!

Mesquite is ... gross

It is amazing how too much of a good thing can ruin the smoothie.

::::::sigh:::::: Sometimes I go overboard on certain supplements, but this time I out and out ruined my smoothie and I am suffering through it despite the hideous taste because it is good for me. BLECH!

Not to mention the ingredients are all pricey and not easy to dispose of, especially when I am short on all of them. I am down to my gross-tasting Maca powder, cacoa nibs instead of powder and I opened up the new package of Mesquite that I have been avoiding and put in waaaaaaay too much. It has a very distinct flavor -- and leaves almost a metallic after-taste. Some say that it tastes sweet and nutty, but I think it tastes like the water left in a drain. But that's just me.

it is high in protein (11–17%). It is also rich in lysine, calcium, magnesium, potassium, iron, zinc, and dietary fiber.

Mesquite is also highly effective in balancing blood sugar. Because its sugar is in the form of fructose, which does not require insulin for metabolism, mesquite helps maintain a constant blood sugar level for a sustained period of time. It supports the diet of diabetics, and helps maintain a healthy insulin system in others."

I am really suffering through this -- and I thought by reminding myself of all the greatness of mesquite it would be easier. But it's not! I am not picky about food and have a very open mind when it comes to drinking things. I drink vinegar! But there is something about this, probably the after-taste, that is doing me in. And the remnants of cacoa nibs floating around in my mouth afterwards aren't helping either!

I need to get me to a health food store stat and replenish my dwindling supplies! The purpose of my daily smoothie is not to ingest a ton of fruit -- I use it purely as a vehicle to ingest all the superfoods that give me boundless energy and healthy skin and shiny hair and an overall sense of well-being. I've tried stirring the different powders in water and trying to bolt it down, but each of them have their own unique flavors, and for the most part can be somewhat masked by the addition of a handful of blueberries or strawberries and banana.

Last night I was tired. Three nights ago I stayed up until 2:30 a.m. to finish a book, and got up the following morning at 8:00. The next night I stayed up until 1:00 a.m. watching a movie, and the following morning was up at 8:00 again. The first morning I had my smoothie and superfoods and wasn't the least bit tired, despite the clear lack of sleep. Then yesterday I did not have a smoothie, but instead made myself some cucumber juice because I have a glut of them from the garden. By late evening I was yawning (using facial muscles I rarely put into use because I NEVER yawn because I am NEVER tired). And I realized that while I can have a late night or two and not be tired, I can't have two consecutive late nights and NOT have my energy-filled smoothie.

So, I keep forcing this disgusting concoction down, because tomorrow is another day, and it will not have mesquite in my smoothie.

I guarantee that!

Boating flashbacks!

Am headed out on the boat this afternoon with girlfriends and with Charlie as "captain." I started thinking maybe that wasn't such a good idea -- when a group of women get together they tend to talk about whatever comes to mind, and who wants to worry about the tender ears of a young teenager?

Which then led me to wonder why I don't drive the boat myself. I mean, I KNOW why, but why? You know? It's just so unlike me, after all these years, not to have mastered the art of boat driving. We have had a boat for years, and even when it was just the Whaler, I never felt all that comfortable driving that either.

It just feels wrong. It feels like the boat is controlling you, it feels like it is skidding all over the place, like it doesn't respond properly to the steering wheel, I guess it's like driving in snow. Sometimes you are in control, and sometimes the conditions are.

I don't like it. I have approached it by telling myself I was ridiculous and that I was going to do it. And all I think while doing so is that I don't like it! I would far rather kick back with face trained toward sun and relax while someone else drove. And Charlie always wants to drive and he is an excellent driver. He really is.

But still, every year I think that it should be the year I get over my thing for not driving the boat, and every year I hardly even get near the steering wheel. When you are in the middle of the lake and going full speed, it's all good. Then it responds properly and so on. But it's when you are going slow and the current gets involved and there are other boats around and heaven forbid I should get it to a dock. So I don't!

It has to have something to do with the water. I've never enjoyed water sports either. Put me on a pair of skis and any type of snow condition and no problem. I will fly down a trail without a second thought. Put me on a pair of water skis, and it feels nothing but wrong. Even though the surface is flat, my brain somehow argues with itself that there is danger all around! Going over the wake ... you could fall! And being tugged around by a rope with your arms outstretched in front of you ... it's really not my idea of fun.

There are always reasons, and when I was a kid and being towed behind a boat by other kids, they had it figured out how to go as close to land as possible while you were sure you were going to die. Great hilarity for the boat occupants -- sheer terror for the sucker on the end of the rope flying towards land, wondering exactly what will happen when the water skis hit dry land. Sure death. So it's no wonder that even when I found someone I could trust to drive the boat, and felt somewhat safe, that when I wiped out and received an enema up the nose and the butt that I didn't want to repeat such a joy again.

Just no fond memories of water sports. Even as a young adult, there was a psycho boat driver hauling me with my small children on tubes, trying to kill us. It just became a lot safer to stay in the boat and watch others go through the art of fine water torture. Charlie is a wonderful and patient boat driver who has no desire to hurt the ones he tows, and I've thought more than once this summer that I should try wake boarding. But then I flashback to the fact that I hate to see the black water curling around me and feeling that uneasy pit in my stomach as I wait to fall, because I have never done any of it without the end result being a painful smack into angry, churning water.

In truth, the lake itself creeps me out. It's so dark in the deep and you can't see anything beyond the impenetrable surface. What lies beneath the depths?

I can float in the ocean all day long without anything but a smile on my face, but I go into the lake, do a few quick laps and get out pronto. I don't know what it is, but the only thing I know for sure is that I don't like it.

That, and driving boats and being towed behind them! And it's not like some strange adult-onset phobia. I've always felt this way. I remember when I was a little kid and my father had bought a cottage on Lake Winnipesaukee that had a little motorboat, the kind with the engine in the back that you steer with. He put my sister and myself and my grandmother in it, and off we went, my first boat ride. And I was terrified. Sheer and total terror. I could see the bottom of the lake, it was sandy and clean and the sun shone down making it twinkle. And all I knew is that I wanted OUT of that boat. My father was oblivious to my terror and I kept thinking that I was being ridiculous, so I didn't say anything. Until I realized, I had to get out, and begged him to take me back. I can still see the surprise on his face, on my grandmother's face, and even my sisters. I was a tough kid, a tomboy, and I wasn't afraid of anything *but snakes!* I kept begging until we did go in, and I never got into that boat again.

It's just weird, how things like that happen and you don't know why and there is no true explanation. I wouldn't say I am afraid of boats today, but that same feeling comes over me when I try to drive one. So far out of my comfort zone that I want out.

AHOY!

Operating under a charmed existence

Does that sound vain? (You probably think this blog is about you ...)

So, Maddie mentioned that there was a big sale at Old Navy. I personally hate to shop, and I especially hate with a passion to go school shopping. My children hate shopping and so there is just so much hate going on, it's just a big zero no fun activity. But when I looked out the window and saw the black clouds, I figured what the heck, let's get some school shopping in.

Charlie needs (or as of this blog, needed) just about everything. He is required to have dress-up clothes for school, and he has never owned anything of the sort. I kept wincing at the thought of what it was going to cost to outfit him head to toe in "nice" clothes, and this after nearly fainting from the cost of his school books. The cost of educating your average teenager outside the public school system is off the charts -- mind blowing. So, with blown mind scattered about, we headed to the outlets. Me and every other mother and offspring. Yikes! It was like christmas shopping out there, but keep in mind, I usually do school shopping in October when everyone has had their fill of such nonsense.

So, because it is always fun to pair shopping with something more interesting, we went to breakfast first at a diner. Since it was 11:00 at this point, Maddie and Charlie ordered lunch while I went for the ommelet. (and someday I will learn how to spell that word!) When our meals were served, Maddie took a bite of her chicken sandwich and we all noticed it was quite raw. We sent it back, and when the check came, they removed it from the bill. Lunch/breakfast for $20! Kewl. (I did point out to the kids that I had tipped the waiter for the entire bill though, because it wasn't his fault.)

We then hit Old Navy first and it was JACKPOT CITY! There was a sale on every item he needed, and we picked up two long sleeved rugby shirts (he needs to wear collared shirts), three pairs of khaki pants, three long-sleeved dress shirts and one short-sleeved one and lo and behold, there was a BLAZER there, just three of them, all black, all just saying "yeah, we don't know why we're in Old Navy either, but buy one of us because we're super cheap." And so we did. Add a belt to that and we walked out under $200. My blown mind was beginning to fit itself back together!

We found a pair of dress shoes and enough socks to last a good long while, all under $50, and a perfect tie for $20. I was thrilled to say the least -- because he is happy with everything -- he looks so handsome in all of his outfits; and he is set for the first semester anyway, if not longer. We bought the blazer a little big so it will last through the year, and it is perfect for all seasons. Since he only needs one on Fridays and hither and thither beyond that, it will be great, since it goes with all of the shirts and pants. We'll pick up some more ties as time goes on and they appear.

The only person who didn't score was Maddie. She didn't get one thing! Oh well. The ride back was glorious and sunny and while we were surrounded by black clouds, we managed to drive within a patch of blue. Just as we pulled into the driveway, we noticed a rain drop. I pulled the jeep into the garage, and within seconds (MOMENTS I TELL YA) the sky opened up big time. And ever since we've been home it has been pouring, like the sun was never even out. Maddie said how could that happen?

I said only when you lead a charmed life; and you can only do that if you intend to do so!

Get it? Then about ten minutes later the Fed-Ex guy came and delivered Charlie's school books. Talk about set! And I have been working on his laptop, uninstalling stuff and running utilities so that it will run like a top.

That damned organized person is creeping in again. But tomorrow I will be completely irresponsible because a bunch of us LADIES (he he) are going out on the boat tomorrow afternoon to sun and fun and have lunch.

Dear Diary!

I was just putting in all the pertinent dates for Maddie and Charlie for the upcoming school year, when I lost my head for a moment and forgot that we are still in August. As I put in all their vacations and such, I realized that I couldn't write down when they are returning to school from winter break. My next thought was, Oh, I need to get a 2010 calendar.

NO! I quickly folded up the school calendars and placed them in the back of my still not done 2009 calendar, closed it and rushed away. I do not want to become so organized that I have to have next year's calendar going. Oh no. NO NO NO!

I started it because I was curious as to whether or not Maddie and Charlie's vacations were close together, and for the most part they are. Maddie starts school a week later than Charlie and she doesn't return from long weekends and breaks until the following Tuesdays, where he goes Mondays (which makes more sense if you ask me!) but all in all they match -- even their spring breaks are only a few days apart. That is good.

So Peter and I went to see The Time Traveler's Wife last night -- and it was really good. I had read the book a long time ago, so I got the general concept; Peter was very confused at the beginning, but I think they did a great job. It also helped that I couldn't remember how the book went -- and I searched high and low this morning for it so that I could refresh myself. But it is nowhere to be found. Where do all the books go? Oh well, I enjoyed the movie and I enjoyed the book at the time, that is all that matters.

Maddie tried out for a softball team that plays over the summers (so she won't actually start practicing until January 2010, and no, I am not putting that on my calendar either!) We watched the try-outs for a while before we went to the movie, and all of the girls were really good. Such killer arms! Wow. She made the team, which is great, out of all that competition that is quite an honor, and I can't wait for the games next summer! Her high school team games are okay to watch, but I bet these are going to be amazing.

This is a little Dear Diary-ish, but them's the brakes. I have been reading all afternoon and I am anxious to return to my book. I am currently reading two; The Power of One, by Bryce Courtenay, which Charlie is reading for school and I happened to start and while it's not excellent/fabulous, I am the type that once I start, I must finish! The other one I downloaded on my kindle this afternoon when my sister-in-law mentioned an author that I liked and that she had two new books! Score! So I downloaded them, by Laurie Moriarty, on top of several others I also downloaded, so I am headed into a big reading phase.

Which is where I am headed to now.

Dear Diary:

It looked like rain all day so we didn't go to the lake to play. Instead I read.

The end.

73 pounds and counting!

At least I think we're still counting. Oh, I'm talking about blueberries. Today all of us went down to the blueberry patch and filled up the five-gallon bucket in an hour. Maddie and I can't figure out how the first time we went we filled it up in an hour-and-a-half, just the two of us, and we only saved a half an hour with four? I know that I am personally picking slower, and I am much pickier, making sure that all of the stems are off and that there is nothing green or bruised in the bucket. (Why? Because otherwise I have to do that at home.)

There are still SO many berries on the bushes -- and the woman said that they would be picking daily for the next three weeks, then weekends after that. Maddie thinks we should go for 100 pounds. I don't know. Since we got no strawberries in, perhaps it's not so ridiculous. As the woman said, pick while the picking is good. Such meaning to a cliche!

So now I am off to freeze them and perhaps make some blueberry muffins. It seems quite sinful not to after picking all these berries!

Mid-morning musings

We went out on the boat yesterday; first Maddie and Hallie wakeboarded and then we went to a nice little cove and threw out the anchor and hung there for a few hours.

It was brutally hot and you had to jump into the water every ten minutes or so to cool off.

Then we went to Sunapee Harbor and the kids went to get ice cream, while I hung in the boat and read. There were three young boys fishing off the dock in the harbor and they had caught around 10 rock bass. They had them strung up on a piece of rope and they asked me to take their picture. I did so, and then I repeatedly asked them what they were going to do with all of the fish. One of the boys said that he was going to put them on his yard for the birds to eat. (Yeah, his mom would love that I bet!) Just before we left, they dumped the whole lot of them into the lake. Lovely.

And you wonder why the lake doesn't seem as clean and pristine as it used to be! Gross. And multiply that by how many little kids catching fish off docks and then throwing them back in, belly up. Gross. Gross. Gross.

We decided that we would head to Newbury and get pizza for dinner, and as we flew across the lake, I marveled at the fact that I completely trust Charlie, and didn't even keep an eye out for boats, etc. as I have in the past. I just let him go, as fast as he wants, all of our lives in his capable hands. Kind of wild. He is so happy to take people on the boat, he is happy to do the tedious chore of swinging around over and over as someone has trouble getting up on the wakeboard, very patient. It is something I am not the LEAST bit interested in! But it's nice to see someone excel at something they like. He can dock that boat with such finesse, it is really something to see. I recalled how nervous he used to be, just a few years ago. I would have to keep him from getting too freaked, and now, now he has so much confidence he doesn't second guess himself at all. Love it.

We ate our pizza in the setting sunlight that danced across the lake, then we headed in as the clouds had moved in and it was obvious there would be no fabulous sunset.

Hallie, Charlie and I then proceeded to go see a 9:30 p.m. showing of Julie and Julia in Manchester. It was a good movie, but not a GREAT movie. Meryl Streep has done yet another amazing job; she actually channels Julia Child she is so believable! As someone who loves to cook and who is going off on a venture of working in a restaurant, it was interesting to me that she ended up doing what she did purely by accident. She was just searching for anything that she could spend her days on. And it all started with writing a cookbook. I thought it was interesting also that she started out teaching cooking classes; but commented that there was no money in it. Which is why I decided not to do it myself.

Anyway, I just went out to the garden to water it and it needs a little attention. I enjoyed a few cherry tomatoes off the vine, sun-warmed and delicious, and then realized I need to pick the lettuce that is bolting. Sigh. I just don't have the ability to eat all of the food that is in the garden right now! There is one pumpkin that is coming along quite nicely. And there are still peas! Weird.

There is a wonderful breeze outside today, and while it is still hot hot hot, there is not that feeling of stagnation. I have prepped for dinner and we will have teriyaki grilled chicken, roasted red potatoes fresh from the garden and green beans and of course that ever perennial salad bowl. And now I am going to go make an omelette Julia-Child style!

I love to cook!

Rights and wrongs

I was reading about how in Portsmouth, NH a man was found sneaking into the building where Obama was speaking and he was carrying a gun. Then it happened in Arizona. These people were presumably not interested in shooting the president: they were just exercising their rights to carry guns. One of the gun-toting citizens said that if you don't use your rights, you lose them.

Which made me think. The major stripping of our rights began, in truth, with the Patriot Act, none of which I want to cite here, but which does contain language that basically lets a person be arrested and thrown into jail without any hope of getting out if they are there under "certain circumstances." Someone told me about how a kid, just a kid playing a prank, was arrested and couldn't get out of jail because of his violation of the Patriot Act. What did he do? He was lurking around the first President Bush's boathouse in Maine. How this affects national security one can only imagine, and of course the kid was stupid (but that is his right as a teenager; you're stupid due to the American Teenager Act, duh). What is interesting is that I can't find any information on this on the internet. None.

Anyway. I am getting a little freaked out by the growing pressure to mandate immunizations, the latest being this swine flu that is, as we all know, a growing pandemic sure to wipe out the world. How do we know this? Because "they" say so. The problem with the whole concept of mandating is that it shouldn't be necessary. If I believe that I am going to die UNLESS I get a shot, then of course I am going to get one. What muddies the water for me is that the government is SAYING I MUST, without providing proof of a pandemic or any other good reason why I should have it.

When the polio vaccine became available, it was a good thing! Eradicating polio, which is not a fun disease at all, was a wonderful goal. But why a chicken pox immunization? And why is that mandatory? Chicken pox is not a killer disease. The hepatitis B shot is another one that really ticks me off. Both Hallie and Maddie did not "qualify" for mandatory status on this shot; but Charlie did. As an infant he had the shot and it completely affected him. He was jaundiced for weeks and my otherwise healthy child was suddenly not as healthy. Why would I give him another shot of something that was clearly bad for him? Why am I not given the choice, as his mother, to decline a shot that I don't feel is good for him?

Oh sure, I can claim religious exemption, but that is a lie. Why am I forced to lie to avoid something that really isn't that necessary at all? THAT is the stuff that goes on all the time and we just ignore it or think that it's not that important. I was just reading about how it actually isn't a LAW that you have to provide government-issued identification to fly on an airplane. And what really blew me away was that this is something I HAVEN'T questioned. Oh no! I too, am becoming complacent in the face of regulations and laws that should not be there at all.

I remember after 9/11 when they were pulling people out of line (mostly good looking young girls) to do more invasive searches of them. I vowed if that happened to me; I was going to put up a fuss. I wasn't going to allow them to search me for the sake of searching me. I was going to demand that the people stand up for their rights! Now I just fly through security and the like because I have decided that I will play their game ... I will take off my shoes despite the utter stupidity of this, and I intend every time I travel that it will go smoothly, and it does. I do it because it's just not that important to convince mere employees, airline or government, that it is stupid. Do they care? No. But start taking anything else off, and I'll sing a different tune.

But back to the no identification needed. Apparently "they" say it is a federal law because it is just easier to say so; and no one really disputes it. The real reason that they require identification is so that people will not sell their frequent flyer miles. But if you choose, you can fly without identification, you will just be classified as such and you will get an orange sticker on both your checked bags and ticket; and your bags will not go onto the plane until you do. Many airline employees do not even know this. The TSA has apparently updated this and said that you MUST have identification to fly, but if you LOST something (as in lie and say you have lost your wallet or it was stolen) then you can fly without ID. See, I hate that. Why are we being forced to lie?

I don't know if it is important or not. What I do know is that it is an example of something that builds and we don't even question it.

That scares me. Especially in this climate of government overload.

O M G it is H O T~!

Dripping hot. Not complaining. Been waiting all summer for this. Summer has finally found us, just in time for fall.

Off to the lake.

To cool off.

To revel in the fact that it is so hot you actually sweat while typing. But don't have to, because there is a lake in wait.

Brain cells shriveled up. Need water.

Whole body needs water.

Splash.

Garden and food musings

This morning Maddie and I went to work off my work hours that are part of the CSA I belong to. We had to get up bright and early and be at the garden by 8:00. She wasn't happy. Nor was she pleased to be picking beans in the middle of a wet field surrounded by bugs. Yes, we were SURROUNDED by bugs. Totally sucked. They were in our ears, eyes, mouths, legs and arms. We were not dressed properly at all. You would have thought I would have realized that since there are bugs in my own garden, there would probably be a few in the REALLY BIG garden.

Other than the bugs, the work itself doesn't bother me at all. Sure, it gets to the back, but like picking blueberries I find it somewhat meditative. But I don't think Maddie was getting that vibe at all, because every time I happened to look her way, she was scowling at me!

As a kid growing up, my grandfather had a big garden. When we would visit during the summer, it was always a BIG DEAL to pick blueberries, raspberries or whatever else was growing in the garden. I loved it. My grandfather was a serious gardener and spent hours going from one plot to another, and until the day I ran into one of those huge disgusting worms that is the size of the snake, I enjoyed it immensely. Night crawler, that is what they are called. If you have read earlier posts, you will know that snakes and I do not get along. I was just minding my own business in the garden, when I saw the tip of a worm poking through the dirt. Worms are cute, so I gave it a little tug, and much to my surprise this enormous thing came out of the ground. I screamed and ran, sure it was chasing me. My grandfather called to me, what is wrong? That's just a night crawler. I said it's a snake. Nah, he said, it's just a big old worm, won't hurt you.

But the damage had already been done. (Think of all the years of therapy I have saved in concluding that my long vacation (read: lifetime!) from gardening was caused by a stupid nightcrawler. Geesh. I am ridiculous.)

So anyway, I think it is such a shame that my children have no gardening memories whatsoever. My mother had a small veggie garden when she lived here, and a couple of blueberry bushes, but I am not sure that any of the kids noticed it. I personally think that all children should be sent to the fields to do a few hours of back-breaking picking so that when they are sitting in front of the video games or computers they can appreciate how damn easy their lives are!

I wonder what will happen to a generation of spoiled and lazy people. I said to Maddie that I think it is important that everyone knows where their food comes from, and she rightly said that most people do know where their food comes from: the factory. How sad is that? So many people don't eat real food at all.

With the advent of "progress," we turned the daily chore of providing food for our families into something that required a few pushes of the buttons on a microwave. I can see the positive side of this, because I spend hours in the kitchen preparing meals or even freezing blueberries, and I can see why one might think there is more to life than that. And the way I combat that personally is to go out to eat. I've never eaten factory food because I've always found it gross. I can remember when I was a kid, maybe 7, and my parents were going out with another couple and I was being left with their older kids. I didn't know them at all, and was somewhat uncomfortable, but I started playing basketball with two of the boys and was having a good time, until one of the girls called to say it was dinner. We went inside and there was a bowl of the grossest looking stuff on the counter. Everyone was spooning it up, and I wondered what it was. I looked around and saw a ton of empty cans, Chef Boy R Dee ... canned something or other, spaghetti, but I think it was macaroni noodles. Anyway, I couldn't eat it, the color alone was putrid, and the smell! I mumbled that I wasn't hungry and went to watch TV. I was starving.

When my parents came back I was in tears I was so hungry, and they asked me what I'd eaten for dinner. I said that I hadn't, because it was disgusting and in a can. So while I don't have specific memories of what my mother cooked us for dinner, I do know it probably wasn't out of a can, because the concept was so bizarre to me!

But I started to notice other friends who ate such food, and yet, I could never eat it myself. I can remember eating a McDonald's hamburger and telling my mother that it wasn't food -- that there was PLASTIC in it! I could taste the plastic! I could see it! She would tell me I was being ridiculous, and I eventually ate the fish sandwiches when I went to McDonald's -- because I thought that was the closest thing they had to real food there. This was when I was a kid, mind you. And don't get me wrong, while I haven't eaten at a McDonald's in probably close to 20 years, I still think about those fries! I didn't hate the food, I was just suspicious of it.

So what is my point? I don't have one. And right now I have to go out to my own garden and pick a peck of lettuce because it is growing like mad. Tonight will be a dinner of just garden food -- and that is just so cool!

No can opener needed. Just a healthy appetite.

29 pounds and counting

That would be 29 pounds of blueberries Maddie and I picked today, or a five-gallon bucketful. LOTTA blueberries! Oh, and they are so delicious! And blue.

The best way to get a lot of blueberries picked in a short amount of time is to have two competitive people with buckets around their necks have at it. Maddie is convinced she picks more blueberries than I do, and of course I know that I pick the most. We then dump our full smaller buckets into the bigger bucket. She is convinced that she has put the majority of the berries in, and of course I know that it is me. Therefore we are both happy and we get a shitload of blueberries!

We went to a new place this year because the one we usually go to isn't open on Tuesdays, and I wanted to go! So we checked out this place in Warner, and we are hooked. It is so free! The place where we've always gone in Newport is crazy in the way that they treat you. The man leads you to a bush and tells you that you can't leave it until you've picked it clean. In the meantime, he comes back to check on you. You always feel like such a toddler, and of course you keep looking around at all of the bushes surrounding you that have WAY more berries than your bush!

Well, at this place it is as loosey goosey as the other place is Nazi-ville. She told us to grab whatever buckets (sizes) we wanted and to park our car where the others were way down the field and pick away. Really? She wasn't going to escort us to our bush? (At the other place you literally have to stand and wait to be led to your particular bush.) We were giddy with the freedom of it all, and it really wasn't too hard to figure out where to start picking, because every bush as far as the eye could see was laden with berries. The first bush I picked clean, because I had been taught well, but then I thought, I can go anywhere! So being the crazy rebel that I am, I skipped the next two bushes and went to the fourth one in! HA! I picked high and I picked low, I did whatever I felt like it, and it was wonderful! I have to admit though, that my first concern is for the bushes themselves, and so I spent a lot of time picking those branches that were so heavy with fruit that they were about to break. I relieved them of their burdens and felt a sense of satisfaction when the branches started to go up again.

I felt very one-with-nature as I picked, the bees buzzed, flies flied and the plunk of berries falling into the bucket was most satisfying. The sun was brutally hot (yes!) and sweat dripped into my eyes, but I didn't care. I love picking berries and I love knowing how much money I will save over the course of the next year and I love knowing where each berry in my morning smoothie comes from.

Now I must go and undertake the task of freezing the little buggers. 29 pounds is going to take some time! But as soon as that is done, I am going for more.

As we all know, winter is just around the corner!

UPDATE: Only idiots pick this many berries at a time. I am exhausted from touching each blueberry in order to make sure it is plump, stem-free and ready to freeze. I have invested hours in this venture and I still have half as many left to do. I did, however, make a delicious raw blueberry pie. Perhaps I need to make blueberry soup!

The sound of silence

Wow. I'd forgotten that the world could be so quiet. After two weeks on Martha's Vineyard in an old, creaky (but quaint and charming!) cottage in Oak Bluffs, the stillness, the greenness, the sheer beauty of this place I call home is somewhat overwhelming!

We should all have such problems!

Everyone left this morning to go find Charlie a cell phone. His broke while on-island, and because he gets something in his head and won't let it go, he has been talking about his new cell phone for weeks. I hope he comes home with something, because I am most interested to see what he will focus on next. Hopefully it will be the nice thick book he has to read for school.

So, here I sit, surrounded by silence and dogs. Heaven.

But I miss the island too. Waking up early and trying not to creak the floors as I put on my sneakers and tip toe outside into a new day. Breathing in the salt air as I approach the bluff on the East Chop road, and gaze out at the shimmering ocean. A sailboat catches some wind and leans over and in the distance a ferry rounds the corner. The sea gulls squawk overhead and it is not long before a runner passes me by, soon followed by a child on a bike, wobbling and sure to get hit by a car it seems, then along comes the harried mother. I have been there. I am not there now.

A bike ride in the morning, the laptop in the backpack on my back, as I ride to another town where I can get a cup of iced chai and free wi-fi! Wa hooo! I feel so, so what? I don't know, just like I am someone else as I sit in the window seat with my laptop and catch up on email and watch people pass by on the sidewalk. I like it because it is new to me. It is fun. I am alone too! No one asking what are we going to do. Just being.

Floating in the ocean, my toes stuck up out of the water, the sky blue overhead. No sound as I duck my ears below water, then a cacophony of sound as I return to the "real" world.

Driving in the jeep up-island, cruising below a canopy of trees. I could drive forever.

Each year it always amazes me how a Vineyard get-away is so much different from those before. Of course it depends on which town you stay in, because things will definitely be focused there. But even the activities themselves always seem to change.

This year I saw three movies, last year not one. This year I ate out, in an actual restaurant, for dinner, twice. In two weeks! I did eat breakfast out five times, two at Linda Jeans, two at Biscuits and once at The Right Fork in Katama. I did not eat one ice cream nor did I have one bit of Murdich's fudge. Those two things alone mark history! I did, however, have Chilmark Chocolates and several chocolate martinis. One night I even found myself, after said martinis, in a karaoke bar singing. Twice. Once I sang alone, the second with my sister. My brother "filmed" us with his phone, and I watched in horror the following morning. Quite frankly, those phones can't catch sound for nothing. He erased them, so no youtube showings will ensue. Sorry.

Lethal chocolate martinis ceased after that. But nighttime trips into town did not. We would walk the short distance from the cottage to town, squinting our eyes in the darkness to determine if that movement over there was a skunk. It usually was. And that one. And that one too. Where do all the skunks come from? Then we would reach the sidewalk where all the boats were backed into their slips for the night, and we would all sneak glances at these people, who sit out in public and do their thing. Like eat ridiculously formal dinners within about two feet of people walking by on the sidewalk, and maybe 12 feet from the road. Weird. Talk about a fish bowl! If you got up early in the morning and walked the same walk, instead of seeing people talking, laughing and drinking, you could examine the remains of a rough night strewn across the boat for all to see, generally spotting a passed out person somewhere within the mix. Lovely.

While Oak Bluffs is a fun town and the honky tonk is fine, I must admit by the final night I was done. Some motorcycle thing was happening, and the town was full of those people who dress like thugs and climb upon their bikes and their bitches climb behind them and they roar off about 30 feet then brake for traffic. Good lord. Talk about the opposite of the open road! And the noise! No wonder it seems uber quiet here!

It was a Friday night and you could see so many fresh faces that had pored into town that night, ready for chocolate martinis and karaoke. Whereas myself was more tuned into the thought of a light dinner and maybe curling up in bed to read before sleep! Ahhh, how much changes in a few weeks. Everything. Nothing.

Charlie and I took a long walk on the beach at Gay Head one day, and when we reached the nude part, I was amazed at how many more there were than in years prior. In all of the bodies that were walking about or laid out on the sand, there was only ONE, one! that was beautiful. The rest were downright begging for clothes. What I find so interesting is that the good majority of these people are exhibitionists -- shedding their clothing and then walking toward you in a show of "I am naked and you are not and therefore that makes me something you are not." Yes, that is true. It makes me clothed. Hallelulah! Try to picture a male walking in such a manner to stick out his penis. It is hard to imagine, but that is what they do. Try to imagine me seeking eye time in any portion of the span before me BUT that ugly thing!

Why walk this beach at all? Because it is beautiful. It is clay cliffs and it is where I find the rocks that I have everywhere at home. And perhaps next year I won't after seeing so much of that that should be clothed being shoved into my face. I don't think Charlie minded. Cheaper than buying PlayBoy I guess. And far more realistic.

Okay, my reverie has been brought to a close by the arrival of family. So soon! :::::::sigh:::::::::

I did not take one picture or blog once.

I was on vacation!