Brought to You by the Letter P

My mother recently moved from Austin (read: Big City) to the Four Corners area of New Mexico (read: Podunk). Most of my mother's family has lived in New Mexico for about 10 years, so I think this will eventually be a good thing for her (to be near more family), but right now I can tell the adjustment is taking a toll.

If I had to sum up my mother in two words, it would be Corporate Shark. All my life she's been the one running the show in big and small companies. She made crazy money and wasn't afraid to enjoy it. Now she's selling modular homes (read: Trailers) to people that generally live on the border of poverty. I'm not saying this is a bad thing (it was her choice, not a necessity), just that it's like taking a fish out of the ocean and expecting it to adapt to a cat litter box (a clean one).

What? If Darwin is right, we came out of the ocean and we're livin large in the litter, poopin up the whole planet too! Just because we had several generations to adapt and she only has several decades doesn't mean a thing. Pssshhhh.

She sounded discouraged in her recent email. Apparently selling trailers in the desert is not ALL THAT, and the slower pace of the area seems to be a concern (as I predicted). I know she'd rather be on the construction side of the real estate industry, but she tried that and found there are a lot of crooks that cut corners to make a few extra bucks. She decided she couldn't live with that, but she's been interested in construction since I was little so I had a hard time believing there's no way to fit these pieces together.

As I pondered her plight, I was reminded of the coolest thing since penguin cheeks:

http://www.earthship.net

My friend Amado introduced me to these homes many years ago and I've been dying to live in one ever since. Totally off the grid. Fully sustainable. CHEAP! (At least when compared to the insane real estate of the Northeastern Freezer I currently reside in.) They are so beautiful inside, and ecological, and damn, how awesome would it be to live like that?

I replied and told her she should get involved in making these the Next Big Thing. The Man with the Plan says they can be built anywhere. She would be doing something she loves in a niche that is less likely to rub her morals the wrong way, and contributing to the greater good.

Phukin A.

I went to Texas last month just before Thanksgiving. Marie (high school friend) & Scott (still has that new husband smell) sent me a plane ticket (first class - my friends ROCK) so we could go to TRF and hang out. It was an awesome weekend.

Marie is very Irish. Scott is also very Irish. Spike (as Marie affectionately refers to her first unborn child) is due on St. Patrick's Day. There's no irony in that AT ALL.

I have both Irish and Scottish blood in my woodpile. Needless to say, our normal M.O. at faire is to ride the pubs hard and put 'em up dry, but since the doctor said Spike doesn't need a head start on The Affliction of His People, this will forever be known as The Year We Were Sober at Faire. I think it was better this way. I certainly remember more of it. In high school we were party animals, but I barely drink at all now so I've become quite the lightweight. The last time I tried to keep up with Marie, well, it's a good thing Scott can stop the truck that fast. Being 18 for 20 years does not make you better at it.

While on the plane I wrote down a few random thoughts to share:

1. What do you suppose the protocol is for eating on an airplane? Do you observe the rules of polite dinner etiquette and wait for your neighbor's food to arrive before chowing down or is your seat your own little world so you should dig in before it gets cold? Does it make a difference if you're in coach or first class? I guess actually it would since first class is the only place you get fed on a plane these days.

2. Sneezing is kind of gross but we can't help doing it in front of others, so isn't it nice that someone usually blesses you each time anyway? And of course the power of suggestion just caused me to sneeze. Ew. At least I'm in the window seat and not stuck in the middle of two people with no proper way to turn.

3. They served ice cream as dessert and all I could think of was J's paradoxical love of ice cream and fear of any smell in the cabin being blamed on him. I passed on the ice cream.

The clock on the nightstand is glaring at me in disapproval, and the sheets are promising sweet dreams if I hurry up and snuggle in.

The stars have been especially sparkly the last few nights too. Good night stars. Thank you for looking in on me.

Not Your Average Impulse Buy

I didn't know BJs* was carrying kids now. This one looks a little lazy, but he might perk up if you throw some water on him.

Kaytee was with me and I told her she'd better get her act together before I considered returning her. They'd do it too. They take back anything.

*BJs is a warehouse store like Sams Club. Yes, whoever named the company is either incredibly naive, or has a helluva sense of humor considering they trade on the NYSE under the symbol "BJ." What guy wouldn't want to buy stock in BJs? And the web site is at - you got it - bjs.com. Now there's a good example of misleading people on the Internet. I can't decide if it's a huge waste of a good domain, or the ultimate irony.

Mahalo

Thanksgiving Eve. It is the calm before the storm. The deep breath before diving in. The moment you pause on your board and look down the snow-covered hill before hurling yourself over the edge into a barely-controlled slide down a slippery slope. [Not that I would have any idea about that since I've never been snowboarding, but I can imagine. I'd be the one curled up by the fire in the lodge with something hot and sweet, and maybe hot chocolate too. Ha.] After tomorrow, much of America will begin the insane pace of The Holiday Season.

I'm so glad we have a celebration focused on gratitude before all that nuttiness starts. The retailers try their best to gloss over Thanksgiving in favor of the consumer madness that Christmas has become, but at least we stop to breathe first, and devote a day to being thankful for what we've given and gained in the last year.

Personally, I like to count my blessings every day. Even if I don't write them down in my book, I at least think of five things every night that I'm thankful for before I go to sleep. Imagine how the world would change if every single human being did that every night. I wouldn't mind living in a world like that.

Thinking about Thanksgiving also reminds me of the turkey in the road. This past summer, there was a wild turkey in Wyckoff that chose the middle of an intersection as his strut zone. Every day on my way to work traffic would be backed up because Mr. Turkey was casually strolling from car to car, sometimes even knocking on the doors. Each time I passed him, I sent him protective Reiki thoughts, wished him a good day, and hoped everyone would stay aware enough not to hit him. He survived. Eventually, strutting season was over and I'd like to think he went back into the nearby nature preserve. (Or it's possible animal control finally took him somewhere safer, but I hope he decided to leave on his own when his work was done.) I looked up turkeys in the Sams cards and Animal Speak and learned that turkey medicine is all about adaptability, blessings, and sacrificing yourself for the good of the whole. I'm not sure if this idea came before or after our tradition of Thanksgiving was established, but either way I'm glad Turkey got the honor of this special message.

Kaytee just told me a cool story before she went to bed. Some background first: I recycle everything I can, and I've always been one to save the little cardboard sleeves from Starbucks for future use (if I don't have my travel mug with me). I actually have two from last Christmas I carry around in my purse. Every time I use them, it's one less wasted piece of cardboard in a landfill. It may not seem like a huge recycling gesture, but the numbers do add up after awhile. With as much Starbucks as I drink, I'd be willing to bet I've saved a few hundred of those things from polluting our planet by now.

Apparently I've influenced my daughter to do the same thing. She told me she was working tonight at Vans and had gotten Starbucks. Previously, someone at Macy's had given her a piece of paper scented with perfume and it was in her purse with the cardboard sleeve, which then picked up the perfume. When she used the sleeve on her cup, the heat released the scent and a girl she works with commented on it. Kaytee explained why it was probably the sleeve from her cup the girl was smelling. Her co-worker then asked if she was an environmentalist. Kaytee said she was definitely concerned about the Earth and tried to do what she could to help out. The girl thought that was pretty cool and decided she was going to start saving the Starbucks sleeves to use more than once too. Not only am I glad to know Kaytee thinks about those things, I'm glad to know my recycling habits are spreading!

Tonight I am thankful for the pure potential energy of gratitude. I am also thankful that my daughter picks up some of my good habits instead of just the bad ones. I'm grateful for the beauty and warmth of a crackling fire, and the mobility of my laptop so I can sit by it and write this post. Thank you for great books that make me laugh and keep me entertained. Thank you for my baking skills, and an annual occasion for family and friends to gather and enjoy each other's company. Thank you for love, happiness, and whirled peas. ;)

I Has A Sweet Potato

I have so had this kind of day before (not today). Thank you Dooce for the link to this hilarious recount:

http://littera-abactor.livejournal.com/7748.html

The Smell of OMG

I wish I could put aromas on the blog like pictures, because I just put all the remaining apples from our orchard foray in October into a pot with water and a bunch of cinnamon, and it's cooking down to applesauce on the stove as I type. There is no candle in the world that can match the mellifluous perfume of cooking real apples and cinnamon.

We humans are always looking for a way to do things faster and easier. I'm all for convenience, but on the occasion when I take the time to do things the old fashioned way, it's a healthy reminder of why things were done that way to begin with. Slow can be meditative and healing. It helps you remember from whence you came. I acknowledge that faster isn't always better, and I'm thankful those old ways are not lost on me.

I really wish you could be here to stop and smell the apples.