Growing

We have much beauty outside this year. Last year there was no money for dirt, pots or seeds.

Mr. Man calls this our king sunflower.

Delicate red blossoms. Name forgotten.

Happy purple petunias.

Ripening tomatoes.

Rob Brezsny Sums it Up

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): "Desire is not an occupation," croons the lead singer of the industrial rock band KMFDM. But I beg to differ, at least as far as you're concerned. For the immediate future, it would definitely not be totally crazy for you to play hooky from your job and stop doing all the busy work you usually do so that you could fully devote yourself to exploring the riddles of your deepest longings. I'm not just talking about the yearning for love and sex, but every single one of your bone-aching, abyss-tempting, reality-crunching hungers.

Calling Me

Last year, I said:

I'm not sure where my professional place is. I don't think I have a calling. But I don't think a 2000-employee, NYSE-listed, financial services corporation is it. Maybe it is and I'm just scared of what it means if I build a career here. I feel lost, both internally about this issue and consumed by this corporation.

It's still true. I've been dorking around waiting for a promotion and I'm not waiting any more. The promotion is not going to change what I described above. So I've started the document again - the master list of all the potential employers and available positions. Tomorrow I begin again, searching for something more suitable to me. My home is here, now I just need to find the job to match.

Wild

My injured lover is recuperating in a ranch-style home out in the suburbs. His body likes this better than the 3-story climb up to his room in the Victorian house he lives in. I was told it was a 10-15 minute walk from one of the suburban transit stations. Little did I expect these directions:

Go up the stairs and head east away from the parking lot. Emerge on a sidewalk where the buses come into the transit center. Continue diagonally along the fence to a traffic light. Continue on sidewalk, cross the median and walk across paving stones to a parking lot near medical buildings. Continue diagonally across the parking lot, cross another road and continue through the parking lot to another medical building. At the right end of the medical building there is a fence with blackberries. Follow the beaten path down the hill, through the woods and over a creek where people have laid down wooden boards. Emerge onto 95th, following the road north up the hill until it turns to a gravel road. A path will continue on a public easement next to someone's driveway and go through another blackberry patch and emerge onto 95th again. The road will take an immediate right turn. Follow 95th downhill, then uphill and take the 2nd left on that road. The road wasn't given its own name. Just follow the cul de sac to the only uphill driveway.

My first trip during the day was fine. The next day I was lugging lots of his stuff, so I went by car. Tonight I took the trip up before dinner and, knowing I would be returning after dark, I came prepared with out-of-the way directions by road. The walking path through the woods is really most direct.

But I've been studying deep ecology in a discussion course at work. We've been talking about wilderness. So at 11pm on a crystal clear night in a moonless sky I ventured into the blackberries, creek and steep woods in flip flops and without a flashlight.

The first patch of blackberry bramble went well. I emerged unscathed. Lights from the houses nearby lit most of the rest of the way, but I knew the final stretch was remote and densely wooded. The nighttime sky cast enough light to see the wood boards over the creek. As I entered the uphill stretch, I was amazed. The office building on the edge of the woods was, of course, fully lit despite its abandoned nighttime state. It was impossible to see, not because it was dark, but because the lights from the office building blinded me, making the path ahead of me disappear. I was forced to hold my hands up above my brow as a visor to block the light. As I rounded the corner of the building about to step into the parking lot, I heard the squeak and then hiss of the sprinklers turning on. Walking back into the concrete nation of suburban office complexes, I thought how tame that was. I expected something harder, scarier.

Walking up the final stretch of sidewalk toward the transit center along an undeveloped stand of tall grasses I heard a rustling. I turned to look in the direction of the sound. I saw movement in the grasses and spotted an animal of medium size. It stopped moving and made eye contact with me. It had the angular face of a cat, yet upright ears of a rabbit. It stopped moving and made eye contact with me. It moved again and I could see it was about the size of a large beagle, light in color like the dry grasses around it. I walked on, turning back to see it once more, but it had blended in to its surroundings. I could not see it, yet I sensed it watched me.

What is wilderness and where do we find it? What sheds light on the wild territories within us? What do we fear about quiet places that lack the walls and barriers we erect in our "civilized" lives? I walk through places in me and in the world in search of answers.

Delicate

I was walking in Laurelhust Park on Monday night with my lover. I love this classic, strolling park with its huge trees and, on this particular night, copulating couples in clear view. We, however, were walking, talking and enjoying the sights on a beautiful night.

I left him a message Tuesday after work, hoping to find a time to see him again.

My phone rang Wednesday morning at 6:40am. It was the hospital and he had been in a car wreck. He has two compression fractures in his spine. An elderly driver, speeding to catch up to a driver who had cut him off, passed my lover on the right-hand shoulder of an interstate highway and swiped both the guardrail and my lover's car, sending them all in a tailspin. The elderly driver hit the median first and broke off a piece of the cement barricade. My lover's car hit this fragment and his collision ended with his car up on the median.



He is alive and will heal. Hug everyone you love.

Independence

Today is the last day I will ever log into Blackboard. My undergraduate degree is complete.

Snapshots

We had an amazing and wonderful weekend. More to be shared soon. Mr. Man and I went to the greenest place in town on St. Patrick's Day - Forest Park. After a long hike (all uphill) we were graced with a rainbow on the way back.



Today was the peace march. Much to share, but just a few shots for now. One of the sign Mr. Man made himself. Then, at the rally area, he wrote everyone's names in chalk.

Still on the Road

Last year on this day our family was en route to Portland. Specifically, we were in the town before Green River, Wyoming on I-80. It was the calm before the storm and the friendships of the adults on the trip were still somewhat in tact.

We're settled in Portland now and I am grateful. This week is our Portland-versary. We'll march in the peace march next weekend, just as we did last year, except this year we'll know where we're marching.

Mr. Man and I bum around town on warm days like today, only to return home to snuggle mountain. There is beauty everywhere I look.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

From time to time I make myself little artsy posters to hang next to the mirror in my bedroom. They range from positive go-get-'em messages to deep insights.

The one I created yesterday states:

DO NOT

YIELD

your beauty to those

who do not commit to

preserving it.

For more visual impact, the word yield is actually a traffic yield sign - bright red for impact. My little project kicked off an art session with Mr. Man. We spent a few hours making traffic signs. Wrong way. Railroad crossing. No parking. Traffic light ahead. No U-Turn. Turns out traffic road signs are elegant, simple symbols useful for interpreting one's life.

Laundry Duty

Pumpkin has developed a recent love affair with our washer. It's a nice washer, I'll give him that. It's a front loader with a concave glass window - into which he sticks his head to watch the items tumble around. Sometimes he sits in front of it and watches it, but at some point he'll stand up on his hind legs and push his face right up against the glass. He runs to the machine as soon as I start to load it. It's one of his super cute moments.

Birthday Love

I am now the proud owner of these kick-ass vegan boots, thanks to love from two great Michigan friends.

My wife and son surprised me with a new iPod shuffle, a cute green one. I had a beautiful, warm, sunny birthday last weekend and was quite spoiled by a fun day out on the town. We went to Paradox, an amazing cafe with vegan food to drool over. That was followed up by a Stumptown soy mocha. Stumptown is the coffee lover's reason to move to Portland. It was a joy turning a year older.

spring has sprung!

The daffodils and crocus are in full bloom. There are bushes and trees flowering. We picked up this bloom to give to my wife.



The forecast calls for snow on Monday.

Happy Velotines Day

Here's one of the many reasons why I live in Portland.

I missed the morning commute, but I'm heading in to the office velo-style after spending the first shift at home with a sick Mr. Man. So far this morning in his fevered state he:

• lifted his legs up in the air while we were snuggling and said, "You know why this is all puffy?" Because it's your scrotum, I said. "Yes," he said. "It's a big blue whale." (He was wearing blue boxers.)


• he told me I couldn't go to work and I should just call in a sick day. I said I had work to do. He asked why other people couldn't do it. He said, "make your boss do it. He doesn't work as much as you. He just gets money."


• won a game of Contest (a card game) that lasted an hour.

My wife is up for an interesting second shift.

Indecent

Yes, that would be our cat, lying on his back, arms and legs spread to the world. Are all cats this indecent?

Push

Yesterday I woke up numb. I felt swallowed whole and acutely aware of the immensity of my surroundings. From my distant and small place, little touched me. None of the debris from my day made an impact or changed my perceptions.

At 9pm I headed out for a rainy evening bike ride. I loaded the iPod with ample Melissa Ferrick. Who else, really, to reach me with intensity. The rain splattered my face and my eyes watered from the effort of blinking back the raindrops. The ride downtown helped me unwind. As I circled back across the river I started to find my release. On the Springwater Corridor I rode faster and harder. I sensed the kinetic energy trapped inside that needed to be pushed out. Unsure of its source or purpose, I simply released it. The ride was a blur, the experience of steadfastly moving forward like a trance. My eyes were steadily fixed five feet ahead of me and my legs pumped, pushing the energy out.

I wonder why numbness settled in, yet what I know is important is that I pushed it back out. I still sense something inside fueling my impatience, ennui and discontent. More rides and rock concerts are likely in the coming days.

Some Things Don't Change

My week has unraveled, I have an impossible amount of homework this week, we need to prepare our taxes and I'm generally under a hair-pulling amount of stress. One thing remains unchanged: I still make my son a mean lunch.



Tomorrow he eats cinnamon almond buttered sweet potatoes, orange wedges cut the way he trained me, Mrs. May's yummy pecan clusters and almond butter and jam stuffed mochi.

Now, if the universe listens to me, I'll get through all this work and have really good sex - all in the next 5 days.

Points, The King and The Snow

My wife and I got back on plan at the new year and have committed ourselves to losing the weight we gained back over the latter half of last year. We're back to counting points and playing the food game, as we explain it to Mr. Man. I'm re-learning that it's tricky being vegan and counting points on WeightWatchers. The guide books that provide point values for food include everything from bear meat to squirrel meat, but it's a crap shoot to determine the points value for mochi or homemade seitan. The other thing I'm re-learning is that I'll save a lot of money by not buying espresso drinks everyday. Damn, the calories and dollars I wasted over the last year!

I've been in a cooking frenzy again since we did blowout shopping last weekend. I made my first homemade calzones stuffed with seitan and spinach. The fruit and nut bars I made turned out to be a good-for-you, no sugar version of a Cliff Bar. I finally found a vegan waffle recipe that works - and turned them into waffle sandwiches for Mr. Man's lunch. My wife made a better version of Riblets by coating our homemade seitan in BBQ sauce and baking. Yum! Tonight I made a Cowboy Meatloaf that was super tasty - a cowboy definitely worth riding. Later on this week's menu are Pigs in a Blanket and Texas Corn Pone Muffins.

We've been instituting PJ Saturdays area here lately. Pretty much only my wife gets her cute ass in the shower. Mr. Man and I alternate between cooking, cleaning and playing. This past Saturday featured the building of a ferris wheel out of K'Nex.



Mr. Man comes home from school with lots of writing practice on little strips of paper. They randomly float around everywhere and over the weekend we recycled some and put some up in his room. Mr. Man chose to tape the word king to himself.



Monday was MLK Day and Mr. Man had no school. Today we woke up to heavy snow and an inch on the ground. I slid my way into work on the bus, which got stuck behind stalled vehicles on the Hawthorne Bridge entry, so I walked across the river and into work. Fortunately, my wife and Mr. Man did not leave the house with me or else they would have arrived at school for a second time only to find school cancelled.

Last week Portland Public Schools closed school for nothing. Today there's heavy snow and PPS doesn't cancel school until 8:15am!!!! Kids are already on their way to school for crying out loud. Tonight PPS has already announced the school closure for tomorrow. I'm happy to write my tuition check for Montessori school if this is the decision-making modeled by public school administrators. Nonetheless, tomorrow marks the third day my wife is home with Mr. Man. We'll see how icy things are and how I get into work tomorrow. All the busses and almost all the cars are chained. The light rail is running all night tonight so that the lines don't ice over. It's a different kind of winter here in the Northwest.

The No Snow Day

Portland Public Schools was closed for a snow day today. That means that I stared up at bright blue skies all day and on some blocks there was a dusting of snow. It was, however, very cold.

My wife called me at work to have me check the school closings online because she and Mr. Man were standing outside school and it was closed. Sure enough, for no good reason that I can see, Mr. Man had a snow day.

These people should go to the Midwest for a real dose of snow. Wimpy Northwesterners who live in valleys.

Table Design

My winter break pleasure reading theme has been largely about food. Starting with Mad Cowboy by Howard Lyman I quickly felt relieved I was vegan and horrified that I had eaten meat while I was pregnant and the years prior to age 18. I'm currently in the middle of Christopher Cook's Diet for a Dead Planet. It turns out an ailing food system is not only killing people and animals, but is significantly responsible for global warming and environmental destruction. Food should nourish, not kill. This reading inspires the same rage one encounters when reading political history a la Howard Zinn, Noam Chomsky or any other truthful account of American imperialism.

It makes me look very carefully at what's on my fork. So when I went to our local grocer a few days ago for a few items, I was unable to by the $1.65 bag of generic popcorn and instead picked up the $3.19 bag of organic popcorn. I knew the dangers of a crop genetically modified or sprinkled with the manure of sick livestock and I couldn't imagine putting that in my son's mouth. Whenever I could, I picked up the items with the "Home Grown" label popping out from the shelf. I knew they were transported less and more likely to be from a small grower/producer. I did not bring home the sickly looking, expensive, out-of-season tomato my wife desperately wanted for her sandwich.

Mr. Man and I came home from a 13 mile bike ride yesterday and my wife lovingly prepared dinner - falafel and a very garlicky tahini sauce. Mr. Man was asked to set the table, which he did. He took a picture of the table "exactly as he designed it." He had set an origami peace crane at each place setting.

Happy eating.

The Cat's Meow

When we returned from our trip to Seattle it was clear Pumpkin the Cat was unhappy with our absence. We fed him ounces of extra love and attention. For two whole days he didn't bite or scratch us. Clearly, he was sick.

My wife dutifully carted the cat off to the vet, only to learn he had a bladder infection. She brought back a $120 bill, antibiotics and pain relievers (for the cat). While he may not have been in pain, the drugs didn't stop his constant diarrhea. Regular readers will remember that Pumpkin is not the neat and tidy ass licker.

Three days ago he pretty much stopped eating and what he ate he just vomited back up. My wife and I drew a line in the sand a long time ago about who was the poop mom and who was the throw-up mom. We were clear about the distinction, but the topic pertained to our son's bodily functions, not those of our cat. Cat vomit and diarrhea are exponentially more disgusting than anything that has thus far come from our son's body. With neither of us willing to stake a claim to a particular substance, we shared the duties.

On one occasion when the upward convulsions overtook the cat and I knew he would soon throw up, I experimented with a technique I use for Mr. Man when he is sick. The bucket. If you can't get to the bathroom, you throw up into the bucket. Since I'm not the throw up mom, I hate holding the bucket or dealing with vomit in any way, but on this particular evening, my wife had just gone out for a walk and the cat was about to hurl. So I grabbed a bowl and put it under his mouth. Turns out cats aren't like kids. In my efforts to catch the disgusting vomit and prevent yet another carpet cleanup, I followed him around with a bowl under his mouth. He just kept moving away from me until finally instead of just one pile of puke, there was a trail. Mental note: don't use the bucket method for a vomiting cat. It's futile.

Thursday morning my wife took the cat back to the vet, helpfully also a cat hospital. She proceeded to do something I didn't think we'd ever do in our life. She applied for a line of credit for pet health care. The vet anticipated no more than $800 if she ran all the possible tests.

Friday night we brought him home with a mere $250 bill and no explanation as to what made him sick. However, he's not vomiting and he's back to pooping "normally".

My wife loves to remind me that I was the one who suggested we take in the cute mewing kitty that appeared in our yard that fateful October 13th two years ago.

Backdating

I got mysteriously older in the blogging world tonight. I went back to my LiveJournal and moved my posts over here. The posts were fun to relive and are lovely snapshots of my life when Mr. Man was 3 - and still nursing.

If interested, review April 2004 to May 2005.

Happy New Year Addendum

Following the building of the K'Nex contraption pictured below, Mr. Man challenged me to build the car in the K'Nex builder's guide. The car is the final design in the book, presumably because it's the most challenging. So I did it.

Mr. Man test drove the car and deemed it not worthy because it made a clicking sound when the wheels turned. So he pulled it apart, improved upon the axle design and he's now satisfied. Turns out the best help center comes in the form of a 5 "and three-quarter" year-old.

In the oven: creamy alfredo penne vegetable casserole.

Happy New Year

Gone is the era of Legos. Last year's holiday gift-giving season consisted of about 5 Lego building sets of 500 pieces each. Not this year. My in-laws decided that Mr. Man needs K'Nex. And not just any plain old plastic K'Nex - the kind that have battery packs and glow-up light tubes.

I used to spend hours configuring Lego structures with Mr. Man. Now I've got complicated glowing structures to fight with. Thankfully K'Nex hosts an after-holiday help center for confounded parents like me.

Happy New Year.