Odd Gestation

2011-01-17T21:43:00.002Z

I have started up another project. It is much more goal oriented and focuses on the way my little family is bring nature, simplicity, craft and rhythm into our home. If you would like the new address please feel free to send me an email. sadoo76 at g mail dot c0m

2010-06-29T14:00:00.000+01:00

It has been a while. 8 months actually.

From the couch

2009-11-04T12:55:00.001Z

It has been almost three weeks since I was hit with a nice case of sciatica. Luckily I am one of those blessed with it in an isolated location- my ass. Over the course of these three weeks I have been confined mostly to limited movement activities. Because of that I have stuck close to home. I have built a pillow fortress on the couch so I can breast feed, sew quilts, and eat all at the same time and without much movement. At the end of the three weeks I had worked up to a ¼-1/2 kilometer walk but was very sore afterwords. Happy to be on the mend, and happier that my man was home for a few hours yesterday, I decided to bend in the shower and shave my legs.

My back went out.

Now I have been known to complain about physical ailments before. I know that when it rains it pours, especially when it comes to body mishaps, but this really has got me down. Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to move around the house with a newborn when you need a wall to hold when you walk? It took me a half an hour to get to a sitting position at the edge of the bed this morning. A screaming child next to me. Then I think how lucky I am that little N isn’t crawling and needing much more stimulation than sitting on my lap looking at shadows. Then I would be screwed. So I sit here, little N curled up beside me sleeping, counting down hours until I can take my nest dose of regular strength Tylenol, and pray that some light enters my back. The good news? Today is my last day of being alone for a whole week! My brother and his partner are coming from Canada and my man will be home in the mornings for 4 days! Bring on the love….

From the couch.

Sleep

2009-10-23T18:25:00.002+01:00

I spend most of the day trying to make her comfortable enough to sleep.
Feed, cuddle, snuggle, play, read, sing, feed
Once she does fall asleep miss her. I watch her breathe.

I want to pick her up and rid myself of the first twenty minutes of independence I have had all day.
I want to snuggle with her.
I want to smell her hair.
I want to hear her coo.

My heart is so full... it is awesome.

1 month

2009-10-18T18:22:00.001+01:00

It has been a month.

It is all still raw. Figuratively and literally.

I am getting it together though. I have let go.

Or I have let go a bit.

The funniest moment of the labour?

I was at the end of 40 hours of contractions.
My daughter’s head had entered the birth canal. I shat. The hot male midwife had to help clean me up. Everyone was so focused on the crap that no one thought why the crap would be there. A few minutes later, the threat of a c-section looming due to lack of progression, they gave me one final exam. Sure enough, there she was! I pushed for the greater part of an hour to no avail. The contractions were getting weaker and further apart. It was time to make some decisions. Time to bust out the ventouse. The apparatus looked somewhere between a flying saucer and a toilet plunger. They put it on my baby’s head. They cut my vagina to make more room. They pulled on the baby while I pushed. The seal slipped and the ventouse popped off the baby’s head and out my vagina. With it a chunk of flesh (placenta??) that rotated in the air in slow motion. It landed with a distinct sound on the doctor’s cheek.

This is one of the many moments I want to remember. It is the one I think of often when I think of that night. The comic relief that could have presented itself a bit earlier but was fantastic never the less…. Even if the doctor disagreed.

3 days of solitude

2009-10-09T16:20:00.001+01:00

Day 1:

4 hours of sleep

6 hours of crying

3 hours of driving around England because I took a wrong turn and missed an osteopathy appointment for the baby

Day 2:

6 hours of sleep broken into 3 parts

0 hours of crying

1 incontinence pad 1 diaper thrown into a load of black laundry by accident

Day 3:

8 hours of sleep broken into 3 parts

0 hours of crying

1 poke with a stick to make sure she is alive resulting in 5 minutes of crying

My World

2009-10-03T12:52:00.002+01:00

Day 11

2009-10-01T10:27:00.001+01:00

I am sitting on our couch, the couch I always write my posts from, and feeling like I am a very different person compared to the last time I sat and wrote. I have my daughter passed out on my chest, a milky breath pants from her bowed lips. She has a full head of hair that seems permanently oiled due to the irresistible urge we all have had to kiss her when she snuggles into the space between my collar bone and my chin. I love her so completely.

Today is a big day for me here. My parents, who have been here since I came home from the hospital, left today. My husband left a few days ago and so now I am alone. A dear friend of mine gave me a word of warning not to be a martyr about my situation (as my family history would lead me to be) but in all truth, I have been terrified of this moment since she was born. It is fucking scary to be a parent, let alone a new parent left alone during the second week of your child’s life. I am starting to get into the swing of things. I have left the house for short sling wrapped walks around the farm. I am able to change a diaper in the middle of the night without turning on the light. I have even managed to breastfeed laying down. The last one may not seem like a big deal to some women, but my breasts are now a bulging “L” cup and I feel like the baby is on the other side of the room when I feed her this way. It has taken some pretty awesome nipple maneuvering skills, let me tell you.

So yes, my stitches are healing up and I am bleeding less. I am anemic, which doesn’t surprise me due to my blood loss at the delivery, but I don’t feel too bad. I have had so much support from D and my folks that I feel well loved, and in the end, that is how I fill my cup. All the sleep in the world won’t give me half the peace that a good hug and a warm smile will. On that note, however, I am going to bed.

We made it...

2009-09-25T09:47:00.000+01:00

Sigh

2009-09-14T02:59:00.002+01:00

Well I was hoping by now that I would have some news or a baby. Actually I was hoping for a baby. Funny thing is, she has decided not to arrive. It is 3am this fine Monday morning and I am unable to sleep. Some of the stresses that are presenting themselves are getting to me and I am having a hard time sorting out my feelings and convictions. Without getting into too much of a political post, lets just say from the start that there is good reason to not be induced. There are good reasons to be induced or to have an elective c-section, but if all is going well with your child and your own health, then there is minimal risk of complications and it is safe to allow your baby to chose when to arrive.

That being said, having the timing be so off has managed to cost our family 2 months of rent from D's canceled work. It has managed to leave D no time to be at home alone with the baby before my parents arrive next week. These things weigh on us and are hard to let go of. The longer it takes the more these stresses override the excitement and that is what has me up at 3am. I am getting worn out in the shuffle of it all. So that is where we are. 41 weeks and 6 days.

My own birthday is on Wednesday, I wonder if she is waiting to share it with me.

The waiting game

2009-09-05T13:33:00.001+01:00

I am only three days overdue. It feels like weeks. More because of what the three days has entailed. After a night of fake contractions, I felt just a little bit of movement from our girl. So, as the midwives here always say, better safe than sorry and I got checked out. The baby was fine. The next day at my regular check up I talked about some fluid leaking. The thing is, and they don’t always talk about this in pregnancy conversations, you produce lots more of your own fluids near the end of pregnancy. Top that off with occasional “baby-on-the-bladder” incontinence, and you have the potential to have a moist crotch for most of the day. That or all the fluids could be a slow leak in your amniotic fluid. Which is what was suspected of me. Which is why I spent the last two days in the hospital going through some pretty seriously invasive exams. Now I am back home and those three days feel like years and I am wondering when this little girl is going to arrive. She is getting much bigger now… just over 9 pounds.

My energy is so low. I nap for hours during the day and feel like everything is an effort. I know these are signs that the time is near. I feel nauseous, my hips ache, my hands and feet are swollen to the point where they are getting hard to move. All these are anatomical gifts from the universe to make it so I want the pain of childbirth, just to get it over with. I appreciate them. I have been waiting for them. They are working.

2009-08-28T12:00:00.002+01:00

After 6 extra growth scans,
After 3 glucose level blood tests,
After 40 weeks of monitoring for preeclamsia, gestational diabetes, and other "weight related" problems in pregnancy...

I am no longer considered high risk.

I have been labeled as normal.

Not only am I "allowed" to labour in the pool, I am allowed to deliver there as well.

What a struggle for recognition this has been.

Ripe

2009-08-27T13:32:00.002+01:00

The pears are falling off the trees.

The apples turn a bright red that is caught in the corner of your eye when you walk through the orchards.
And after 6 months of anxiety over poor user instruction... our green house is finally built. All that is left is to have our baby.

2 Weeks to Go!

2009-08-19T11:20:00.007+01:00

*Something strange is going on with Blogger today. Sorry about the font issues. I don't have the energy to go through the html to figure it out.

I have slipped into the fake lament that most bloggers slip into prior to major life events. Specifically birthing. Perhaps it is the exploitation and narcissism that blogging promotes (I love it!) that seems to cut against the grain of a very private, yet very human universal experience, that shuts us down from wanting to communicate. What ever the reason my introspection has been limited to patterns such as this:

Oh look, my belly is moving- aw, it is because we have a little girl in there- one day she will hit puberty- barf

In a few weeks we will have a baby- barf

Look at these cute little pants hanging on the line- I can’t believe I have a child inside of me that will one day be out and fit into them- barf

What if I totally fuck this kid up- what if I totally rock- my face has a zillion pimples on it- I am only glowing because of the sheen of oil on my nose- I feel like I have another earlobe worth of flesh hanging out my butt with this new hemorrhoid- we are getting a new drier- our daughter weighs 6.5 pounds already- barf

So the other day I decided to take the muslin cloths (a thin piece of cloth that is used for baby barf, snuggling, bibs, num nums, and other misc. things I have no idea about because I am not yet a mum) and learn how to embroider simple designs on them. It is the most crafty thing I have done in months. It is funny how crafting seemed to have slipped to the bottom of the pile. Crafting and being creative in general. It is really one of the best ways for me to let off some stress.

Okay, so I am sitting here now, with the most disjointed post known to my blog. My feet are swollen beyond recognition to the point where they are painful to move, the skin under my right breast is numb, the house is a mess and the in laws are on their way (they just called) to see our space for the first time since we got together. I should go.

I should clean.

Perhaps I will just craft.

Whew...

2009-08-12T15:55:00.000+01:00

She turned!

We all have our moments...

2009-08-08T21:23:00.001+01:00

One thing about being pregnant that I have completely embraced is a sense of entitlement. I am bringing life into the world and soon enough, so I am told, that life is going to control a lot of my own. For now, I am still autonomous. Hormonal, opinionated, and entitled!

Today I went shopping in a large supermarket. Unlike the bliss of Canadian and American supermarkets, there is no need to provide public toilets in public buildings here in the UK. So after spending a chunk of money, I waddled up to the customer service desk and asked if I could use their bathroom.

“We don’t have a public bathroom.”

“I know, but I am 8 and a half months pregnant and I really need to go.”

“You can walk down two blocks to the McDonalds.”

“I think I will go right in the middle of your parking lot.”

She looked at me with her mouth open.

2 blocks to McDonalds... are you kidding me?

I walked out with my groceries, hiked my skirt up around my hips beside my car and peed right there.

Transverse tribulations

2009-07-28T13:08:00.000+01:00

The weeks are counting down. Time has a funny way of playing with you depending on what you want. There is a mixture of fear and anticipation melting in the furnace of my heart. So many things to consider. My daughter seems to like laying on her side. So what? It isn’t the end of the world, but it could go something like this:

• In two weeks I go for another scan.

• If she is still transverse I am to be admitted to the hospital.

• I stay there for the remainder of my pregnancy.

• I will have a pretty high chance of needing a c-section.

• My husband is going away on a tour 3 weeks after I am due and will be gone for almost 3 months.

Now, all of this still has a chance to change. I spend the bulk of my energy each day trying to support our little rebel into a better position. Pelvic tilts, yoga, swimming, headstands in the pool etc. I have even shone a light on the underside of my belly. She doesn’t really react. I wouldn’t be in too much of a whirlwind about this except that I read this situation is very rare after 32 weeks for a first pregnancy. I am at 35. I also read that the womb that should be squeezing and shifting her upright, will now be adjusting to her will and accommodating horizontal baby instead. I am adapting to her. Parenthood.

In totality, it isn’t the end of the world. I could have my c-section, D will go away, and I will recover on my own with a little one to love at the same time. It will be fine which ever way it goes. I need to keep reminding myself of this as I pull further away from a birthing ideal I have created in my mind. I need to remind my self of this when I start getting mad at my little one for being stubborn. I need to remind myself of this when I am feeling as low as I have been, because if there is anything I think I am good at, it is adaptation. What I seem to have a hard time with is having faith that the situation will change. That she will turn. Because she may. It is really likely, in fact. When she is ready. I am not in control. This is parenthood.

the post that was

2009-07-18T12:12:00.001+01:00

This post was supposed to be a funny little diddy about how D and I collected an entire Volvo station wagon full of lavender that now resides on my living room floor waiting to be bundled. I would make quips about how every time I went to tie the stocks into bundles I got too tiered and needed a nap.

Then this post was going to be about a thunder fly, or a very small fly about a mm long, that crawled between layers of my screen. When I tried to move it off my screen it squished between the layers. I now have a bug in the middle of my screen that is driving me nuts.

Now this post is about love and loss. As I have mentioned before, this seems to be a time of losing people. Yesterday a close friend of my husband died of brain cancer. She was my age. Last year she was diagnosed with breast cancer, had both removed, went into remission. She collapsed shortly after and was diagnosed with brain cancer. She died in her sleep being held by her lover, D’s best friend. My heart aches for him now.

So I don’t really have any stories that I feel like expanding. I can hear the tractors in the distance. Little kids are playing somewhere near by. A few birds are hanging out on our front lawn. I have laundry to do, lavender to bundle. My heart clings to those I love and I pray this is the end of my peers dieing for the moment. I pray for the hearts of our loved ones that are in pain to have reprieve.

32 weeks in the garden

2009-07-09T12:04:00.001+01:00

With stretch marks that show the paths of where I have been...

I will follow them less than two more months.

Fragility

2009-06-30T23:35:00.000+01:00

Adding to the fragility of life around me, another person of significance has died in his sleep. The third person in my life in the past week. It would be more overwhelming if I participated in it. I stand back, however, and think of the living. The loved ones all three of these people have left behind. I also think of my friends, the ones I hold dear, and give thanks that they remain. The man who died last night, and his ex-wife, were the best friends of my parents when they were a young couple. They had children at the same time. Their daughter born a few months before myself and their son a month after my brother. To this day my brother and their son are the best of friends. They moved to the west, we moved to the west. We even lived with them for a short period while my parents found housing. Then we moved to a larger city within the same province and they did the same. Our families were very close. Then, over time, they stopped participating in my parents lives. They stopped engaging in the love. My parents were hurt. Their friendship drifted. My memories of my “Uncle” revolve around all of us children gathering in a closet and him shining a flashlight into his mouth and making his false teeth rattle around scaring the living cap out of each of us… then wanting more. I remember how much he looked like Mr. Bean. Then the memories fade. They become adult memories, the kind when adults stop being the ultimate rulers of your life and drift into the background of your experiences.

So, with all those people who have died this week, I give thanks for what they brought to my life. I ache for their families. I try to remember the best memories I have of each of them and I pray this is the last of my life that will die this week.

Summer Solstice: Litha

2009-06-25T11:27:00.001+01:00

Summer Solstice:

In the pagan wheel of the year, summer solstice, or Litha is a very festive holy day. It is the time when the sun is out for longer than any other day of the year. Pagan lore talks about the fight between the Oak God and the Holly God ending with the Holly God winning at Yule.

Symbolism for this holy day revolves around what is happening naturally outside in our own backyard. Roses, bright oranges and reds, sunflowers and if it were possible to capture bird song, I am sure that would be there as well. For our alter I managed to put down a orange, red and yellow cloth. I made a 1970’s inspired sun and attached it to a large vase. I filled it with daisies, roses, lemon balm and lavender from our garden. It is simple this year but mostly because my brain was wrapped around thoughts of father’s day. Something that most holy days involve is a letting go ceremony. As I watch the symptoms of my father’s illness increase I try to remember who he was before. I try to let go of some of the implications the changes he has gone through has put our family in over the past five years. I try to let go. Letting go isn’t as easy as it once was. I am looking for security and looking for a simple black and white of what I should care about. Of course life doesn’t work this way and as I watch the constant struggle of my mother I try to remember she had thirty loving and productive years with my father before all this happened. I try to remember that during this time of my own personal transition. Where people from my past are to be passing away and all I really have is now.

So I turn to the sun on this solstice in a somber mood. I say goodbye to the young boy who called me cushion, to the crazy lady who published my first column in her magazine and I feel my baby kicking away. The circle of life in the sun’s rays.

Twilight effects on a 32 year old mother to be....

2009-06-20T13:52:00.000+01:00

It all started a few days ago. My company had left and I was alone in the house. I had purposefully bought the first two books of the Twilight series. My thoughts? Teenage angst is the best way to recover from a very busy month. Everyone I know who has read the series has said that the writing was poor but that they made it through all four books in a week. I remember the same sort of dialog about the Harry Potter books, none of which I thought were written poorly at all. When I started Twilight I sighed… it really is poorly written. I decided to keep reading. Around 100 pages into the book I wondered what all the hype was about. I put the book down and tried to go to sleep. Five hours later I was ¾ through the book. I finished it the next morning after breakfast. That was yesterday. Now I am a little over half way through the second book and don’t have the third or fourth books yet. I know I will be finished this book by the time I go to sleep. My plan for this week was to dive right in, and that I have. I am guessing my afternoon will be spent driving to our closest local shopping centre, 30 minutes away, and hunting down the next books in the series. Sigh.

2009-06-18T22:24:00.002+01:00

The sky was growing red when I went to dump the compost at the far end of the garden.

In the near distance I could hear the sheep bleating and a few black birds singing their songs. As the sky grew a deeper scarlet I grabbed my camera and set out for the pasture.

I stung my ankles on nettles as I positioned myself as close to the fence line as I could. The newly shorn sheep looked for a moment before continuing their grazing. The sound of the breeze through the leaves that also rattled the metal barn door lifted my dress slightly and cooled my thighs. I returned home happy.

Hands On

2009-06-15T19:32:00.002+01:00

It has been a wonderful month of visits. It is hard to explain the joy that comes when people you love are in your space. For most people, their loved ones are in their social circle. For me, they are everywhere around the world. D has been away for 4 out of the last 6 weeks and in that time I have had both a dear friend and my favorite aunt come to stay.

It has been amazing to have loved ones here at this stage in my pregnancy. I am both big and showing yet also able to get around. It is the most wonderful mixture of potential and realization that I have had in my pregnancy so far. The time is drawing near. I am making plans in my calendar that are within the time frame of when I will have a child. It was great to have a loved one from far away to talk to my belly and to rub my tummy. When I went for a test the other day at the doctors office there was a pregnant woman with two hand prints on her t-shirt. Under the hand prints it said “HANDS OFF!” Something about being fat and pregnant is that no one really knows if you are just fat or if there is a baby inside there. No strangers come up to me and ask when I am due or if I know it is a boy or a girl. No one uninvited touches my belly. It is a quiet knowing.

It was magic to share our baby with someone other than the two of us.

trying to get a leg up on the situation

2009-05-29T22:10:00.001+01:00

It has been a while since I have had the mental space to write. It always feels like I am cheating myself out of documentation. When it is stressful or busy is when I really would like to remember what I am going through. The past week I have been helping the children I used to take care of study for their common entrance exams. One of the boys had a bacteria infection in his leg that called for 2 operations and 4 nights in the hospital. The way the bacteria spread there was question of amputation for a brief (but scary) moment.

I am back home now. I feel like I have been gone for years. Sitting on the couch with still another week before my man gets home, the house feels oddly quiet and in need of a good clean. I know how I am going to be filling my time and I am hoping that a good rota of housecleaning will put me back into a place of calm normalcy. There really isn’t anything as abnormal as a twelve year old on morphine.

2009-05-21T11:20:00.001+01:00

2009-05-20T01:30:00.001+01:00

My fat Self

2009-05-19T11:20:00.002+01:00

A new article came out at Canada.com about the bias against fat people. It reiterated a point I have thought about a lot over the last year. If the fat population (overweight, obese, morbidly obese) is at half or almost half the population in the US, why is it that they allow themselves to be treated like such shit but the medical system, clothing manufacturers and so on? Granted I know the answer is along the analogy that most of my Jr. High was bullied by one girl, I still don’t understand the lack of revolt.

One of the things this article mentioned that I hadn’t thought of until I moved back to Canada for a half year a few years ago, was the discrimination of fat people in the medical community. My experience with doctors has always been a seemingly unbiased approach to my health. There are things that have happened to me that were a result of my weight (shin splints when running 2km a day in Thailand). These things, when mentioned by my doctor, I took as fact because my entire physical wellbeing wasn’t determined by the fact I was fat. Each situation felt like it was being evaluated for what it was. My running gate was altered because my thighs are big and the front of my leg didn't compensate appropriately. Then I had a doctor in Canada who was cruel. Plain and simple. The experience I had in her office has forever changed my view of the medical establishment as being something above society’s stigmas.

“More than half of 620 doctors surveyed view obese patients as ``awkward,'' ``unattractive,'' ``ugly'' and ``non-compliant.''”

“In surveys, medical students report ``with nearly total agreement,'' that severely obese patients are the most common target of derogatory humour by doctors, residents and students, most often in surgery or obstetrics-gynecology settings. Overweight and obese children are also targets of humour, they said.”

So when I come home from an appointment with my doctor, who says I am having a perfect pregnancy, that there is nothing that could be better and I should be very proud, and then go to see the midwife who says that I MUST labour attached to cords and on my back (the one way I can not lay due to a back injury) because I am so big and a “massively high risk”, I can’t help but have a “fuck you” attitude.

It is very hard to separate my ego from the situation and really get in touch with what is the most important part of my birth plan. My ego says: “You think you can tell me that I can’t do it because I am fat? You should see the amount I have done in my life while being fat. I am going to stand, pop this kid out, and walk out the door in 15 minutes”. The alter ego says: “You think I can’t do this? You are probably right. This is going to be insanely painful and you should just knock me out, make fun of me when I am under, because lately I have been happy when I am able to push out a crap.” My SELF says: “Just do your best. Fight to have the most natural, cordless/ tubeless, birth possible and make adjustments when needed”.

I love it when my Self makes so much sense.

love

2009-05-17T20:07:00.002+01:00

There is something really special about having friends around. I have one that is visiting from Canada at the moment. She will spend one more week here before returning home and it has been the greatest gift. We are not cramming her holiday full of exciting things but rather going somewhere cool every few days. That has worked out with my energy levels and with our budget. It has also allowed for us to be flexible in what we get to visit as well as getting normal things done as well. D and my friend both leave the same day. Then I am here for a week by myself to ponder it all before starting again with my aunt. I love being loved.

Body Worlds Review

2009-05-15T21:23:00.002+01:00

It was easy to see how controversy has followed this exhibition. The first room you walked into was a step by step viewing of the beginnings of life. Embryos at varying degrees of growth. From as little as a few weeks old, it was fascinating to see how little they could be and still have fingers and toes. It gradually moved into the fetus section and then to a woman with a child still inside her (photo in last post). While marveling at the beauty of life, there was a point where I remembered that these were all dead little babies and that was a strange thing to go through your head while really celebrating life. Other parts of the exhibition were donated by the people themselves prior to death, but the baby section, obviously, was not.

For the most part it was easy to forget that the figures were once alive. They had a very surreal aspect to them that made it easy to just look at them as anatomical models. Then all of a sudden you would see eyelashes, or fingernails, or pubic hair and realize that they were in fact corpses. I highly recommend it for people who are in school for something anatomical. Being able to see the different systems and see that they work together was an amazing learning experience for D and my friend. For me, it was just nice to look inside a dead person without having to deal with the smell of a cadaver.

All three of us got a lot out of the exhibition. There was very little on the fat front. A cross section of a 250+ man was shown but the actual procedures needed can not be done on someone with fat still on their bodies because it relies on the removal of fat for preservation. In the description of the fat cross section there was a sentence that stated that highly obese women lose 8 years off their life. The next room over said that people who have a good sex life can gain 8 years on their life expectancy. So according to the researchers for the Body Worlds exhibition… I am golden.

Take a look on the inside

2009-05-14T22:20:00.003+01:00

Tomorrow D, a dear friend, and I are going into London to check out the latest Body Worlds exhibit. This controversial show is a real look at the insides of our bodies. People have donated their dead bodies to the project. They go through a process called plastination.

"The process of plastination involves removing all bodily fluids and soluble fat from the specimen to stop decomposition.
The fluids are then replaced through vacuum-forced impregnation with reactive resins and elastomers, such as silicon rubber and epoxy."

I have been part of some amazing dissections in my life and have managed to attend a cadaver workshop while in massage therapy school, but this is something I have only dreamed of. The ability to see tissue in action.

The name of this particular exhibition is "The Mirror of Time". They apparently have a whole section designated to the "obesity crisis". My hope is that it allows the people to show and tell without a dialog.

A reaction will be posted after the event!

May Day Morris Dancing

2009-05-06T09:48:00.002+01:00

How can you resist men with bells on their knees? The Morris tradition is one that I have come to love living here in England. Sticks banging together to form percussion while old time music chimes in the back ground. Simple tunes, with rather simple folk dances to accompany them. Somehow, at this time before 6am, the mood was perfect to watch these men prance around with handkerchiefs in the middle of our village, on the road, with London commuters passing by. Smiles abound. Tradition prevalent.

16 really bad people banned from UK

2009-05-05T11:51:00.003+01:00

There is something deeply gratifying in the thought that if you are bad enough you won’t be allowed to come into the UK. The moral implications of this decision making process may not seem like anything new. Even if you are caught with pot you can’t cross many boarders. Ask half of Canada’s musicians. When you put these people up against minimal crimes like pot possession, it is no wonder. I guess it is just seeing them isolated out. Fingers pointing. They are mean mean people. They don’t deserve to come into the UK.

One of the people, Michael Savage, happens to strike a particular cord with me. I only learned about him recently when a comment he made went ballistic on my fat acceptance forums. He suggests that fat people should not only be refused health care in North America, but put into concentration camps. I am sure it isn’t this particular comment that put him on the list of bad boys, but I am not arguing. I don’t want him here either.

Here is a good article written by Paul Campos bringing to light the other side of the whole "fat people are costing healthcare to skyrocket" debate. Here is the crap spewed by Savage.

The list, in general though, is comprised of extremists that propagate hate and potential violence. What is great is that they aren’t all Muslim, something that I think western culture has been really using as a scapegoat for a long time now. Is this a sign that we are looking beyond the middle east as the source of all our societal problems? I sure hope so.

Beltane

2009-05-04T11:23:00.003+01:00

It is traditionally thought of as a celebration of fertility and virility. The holy day gets its name from the Gaelic Goddess “Bel” meaning the bright one, and the Gaelic word “teine” meaning fire. The Beltane fire is at the centre of the ritual for this special day. The Everyday Witch sums it up nicely: “Kindling the Bel Fire is an invocation to the Sun God to bring blessing and protection for the coming year. This fire also holds many healing and purifying properties, so think carefully about what intentions you wish to bring to it or what applications you wish to make of it. Traditionally, people lept over or through the fire to be cleansed and renewed in vitality. Pregnant women leapt through the flames to ensure an easy birth and safe delivery. Cattle were driven through the dying embers to banish disease. Couples could jump the fire together, to protect their union and renew their vows.”

Another important symbol that is incorporated into the celebration, and more frequently thought of by pagans, and non pagans alike, is the may pole. The union between the masculine (pole) and the feminine (ribbons) with an interweaving dance.

This year we didn’t have that much of a celebration in our household. We lit a fire in the fireplace and cuddled in front of it. We woke at dawn, after a night of turbulent sleep, to go to the village centre and watch the Morris dancers bring in the day. Although both were rewarding , I regret that I have not put much energy into this special day. This holyday, more than perhaps any other in the wheel of the year, resonates with me because of its history of sexual celebration. It is what I stand for, the removal of taboo. It would have been great to celebrate this with D this year. Our little baby inside me jiggling and kicking to a good hardy drumming. It would have been good to look at photos from our wedding last May Day and celebrate the year we have had. I was just too ill.

Almost fifteen years ago, when I was part of a casual coven of women in the States, I remember the most exhilarating May Day of my youth. We had all brought roses and a jar for the celebration. As we danced around the fire we placed a single rose into our jar and filled it with water. These sat next to the fire for the remainder of the ceremony. We sang, we purged, we ran through the flames, we talked of sexuality and sensuality. We celebrated those of us in the group who were maidens, the young ones, and said “goodbye” to the crones, who in mythological terms, turned to stone on Beltane Eve. There was another young woman who was visiting from west coast America. She looked like a pixie and her feet and hands were dirty from the earth she walked freely on. A fellow wanderer. She handed me her rose and kissed me on the lips. Far from being comfortable in my own sexual expression, this is one of the few times in my life I remember blushing.
The innocence of it all.

The glee.

It was exactly what it should be.

Sickness and beauty

2009-05-04T04:16:00.001+01:00

I am up again. This time it is 4am instead of 5. Blasted colds. They always catch me in my lungs. Ever since I can remember but especially those years in Thailand where I seemed to develop a mould allergy, my lungs have always been week. I am glad D is filming in the Middle East at the moment because I don’t have to worry about him worrying while I sit up sipping tea and contemplating the meaning of it all at this time of day.

A few days ago, like I mentioned, was our one year anniversary for our public wedding. We woke up early, after a restless nights sleep, to go into town and watch the May Day celebration. Morris dancers, with bells on their knees, danced into the morning while the mist burned off the Weald. On our way the calves were nursing and snuggling their mothers in the pasture next to our house.

I managed to capture the hue of my life at the moment.

2009-05-01T11:39:00.000+01:00

Doggin' in the Bluebells

2009-04-30T17:55:00.001+01:00

This is my favorite time of year in the UK. Have I mentioned that? I probably have as each little thing that crops up makes me feel that much more thankful for my life. A year ago tomorrow I had my wedding #2. The wedding that everyone came to. The day after the wedding we all went for a walk through a coppiced birch forest. The forest floor was a thick carpet of bluebells. The beauty of bluebells is the mystical hue they cast from a distance. When driving down the beautiful Kent country lanes, what appears to be mist on the forest floor is actually these delicate blue flowers. I have looked forward to it each year, and this year was no exception.

We decided to go to a forest a half hour from our house. The walk is gorgeous and we saw the hint of what was to come when we walked through it a few months ago. We noticed something else about this forest. It is a flash back to the 1985 male gay scene. Each time we have gone the parking lot is full of cars. Each car has one man sitting it it, engine off. At first, when D suggested it might be a “dogging” site, I countered with it being lunch hour and these were probably guys who didn’t want to eat at the office. Mind you the closest town that has business men in it is about 20 minutes away. This time when we went we noticed a man come from an unmarked path. He got into his car and a few minutes later threw tissue paper out his car door. Then, from the same direction, came a younger man who got in his car and drove away. We were suspicious.

We went for our two and a half hour walk and didn’t encounter a single person.

You know, there is a stereotype that gay men have the best taste for locations on the planet. Although I am sure the stereotype wasn’t devised over dogging locals, it certainly wasn’t an exception.

Hamburger or Hot Dog?

2009-04-19T18:02:00.001+01:00

Alone in the house I decided to start on some serious spring goal lists. I got a lot done today. More than I ever get done in a single day. Because I got so much done, I felt the need to share it with you, my dear friends. I need a pat on the back.

I managed to do a detailed clean of the kitchen including inside the oven. I did the bathroom with the toilet, the bathroom with the bath, the fridge closet. I planted carrots, broccoli, and beets. I took the cloche covering off the strawberry plants in hopes for some bee pollination to occur. I trimmed all of the bonsais (even the Canadian larch forest!). I did 4 loads of laundry and made it to the bottom of the basket… it only took 3 months! It is all hanging on the line right now. The warm spring sun removing all perfumed soaps and leaving only clean country air in our fabrics. I disinfected our new baby crib. I talked to my mum for an hour. I plucked my eyebrows! I even took time to have a nice cup of tea. If every day could be this productive my house might actually look clean. Alas, these days come only once in a while so I need to clean ‘till I drop. That is where I am now... dropping, slowly. The birds are having a party in our backyard and I have left the kitchen door open so I can listen to their song as I melt.

Every now and then I feel the baby move. It is all getting a bit more real. Perhaps that is why I was into cleaning up so much today. With baby furniture starting to slowly make its way into the house, I may be what they call… nesting! Our next scan is on Tuesday. If all goes well, we will find out the sex of our kid!

So what do you think it will be… a hamburger or a hot dog?

narcissus relative

2009-04-15T10:19:00.002+01:00

In my newly acquired family, daffodils are a pretty big thing. The first year that I went to my in laws house I was shown a daffodil (in the greenhouse) that had flowered for the first time in over 30 years. It had been collected in some far away land- either Spain, Morroco, or France before I was even born! D’s father has been going on yearly trips to these places in search for the wild daffodils that grow on hillsides and in road ditches since D was a boy.

He breeds them, used to show them, and now judges others who show the breeds he created. It is interesting to think that without my father-in-law these two flowers would have never been around.

Old Friends, New Places

2009-04-12T17:47:00.002+01:00

We had a friend come down for a visit this weekend. The same friend who was in the termite hatching photo. A friend who I have known from a visa run to Penang, Malaysia that I took 5 years ago. Every three months I would have to leave Thailand and get a new visa. My friend had to do the same from Indonesia. The closest place to get a visa for the both of us was in Malaysia. It is normal to see the same people on your visa runs. This was a way that you could tell who was a worker in their respective adopted country and who was a tourist. Because I worked, I could only get a few days off every few months to get a visa. I couldn’t go to all the surrounding countries, or even explore Malaysia. I could explore one town in three day increments for the better part of four years. It was a way that people are judged in such circumstances. Who is more hardcore, more daring, more an adventurer. Who has been away longer, who can stay longer, who knows the language more, who eats the local food, who is over trying to be local. People sepperate out into these groups. The two week holiday folks, the year around the world folks, the English teachers, the long term workers, the non-working expats and the lifers. My friend and I were long term workers, long term meaning over a few years.

Shortly after I left Thailand my friend left Indonesia. We were both married within a half a year of each other and went through the joys of getting visas around the same time. We have known each other when we were single and now as married (with a baby on the way) and he, married (soon to be divorced). It is nice to share the worlds with someone. I had the opportunity to visit him in Indonesia and he visited me in Thailand. We have seen where the other has lived and we both know what a challenge it is to live in an eastern foreign country then acclimate to a western country afterwords. We don’t often reminisce anymore. It is in the background. This commonality of a very unique experience.

This short visit was limited by my energy level and his lack of time. We managed to get out into the orchards to see the plum blossoms in full bloom and the beginnings of the apples. We talked to the head farmer about the cycle of a cow’s life and about the grazing pastures that the sheep rotate in. Just as the rain started to sprinkle, we went for a nice walk around the National Pinetum. Life is a long way away from riding on the top of buses through Indonesian countryside.

Forest Anemones and the European Union Directive... big brother is watching.... run to the forest

2009-04-07T23:32:00.006+01:00

Today, in a spare moment to pick up paving stones for our greenhouse, D and I found this little woodland paradise.

Only a kilometer from our house, the newly blossomed anemones saturated the forest floor.

Pulling the car off the road, clambering down a small bank, we cuddled hand in hand enjoying each other once again. It is always a good day when D comes back from a business trip.

It is nice to be able to have nature slapping us back into the beauty of life when the European Union Directive comes into effect. Even for me (a person who doesn't care much about Facebook privacy scares) the recording of website usage, email traffic, and calls to family using the internet is something I am worried about.

"A European Union directive, which Britain was instrumental in devising, comes into force which will require all internet service providers to retain information on email traffic, visits to websites and telephone calls made over the internet, for 12 months."

Dang!

The Quest to be Thin: For my Mum

2009-04-06T10:12:00.005+01:00

Five years ago my mothers confession wouldn’t have bothered me. I would have thought it vain, but not at all unusual.

My mother is fat.

She has also been on a diet since she was 7 years old when her own mother would send her away to hospitals during her school breaks to be on -1000 calorie a day diets. You see, I don’t mean she has been on diets and sneaking in cookies on the side, in fact she doesn’t have a sweet tooth. My mum is a hard core dieter. She has tried the liquid diets. She has been on Weight Watchers a dozen times. In the 90s she went on phenphen and only went off it because it was banned for causing heart problems. That was the most she ever lost, about 50 pounds. She gained it back within months of going off the medication. So this weekend when she confessed to investigating the possibilities of getting weight loss surgery, I can’t say that I was surprised, I was just totally, through to my core, sad. I love my mother dearly, and although I can be pushy with my own beliefs, I don’t think my fat acceptance way of life will ever penetrate her 50 years of conditioning. Weight loss surgery is where I draw the line.

When I asked her if she had talked to anyone who has had the surgery, she said she had. Both people were only a year post-op. I suggested that she talk to a dear friend of mine who had to get her stomach removed, replaced and hasn’t been able to eat without throwing up for years. She can’t digest most foods and has to get IV nutrients given to her because she can’t get them from her food. She is heavier than she ever was prior to her operation. Of course, she “looked great” her first year after the operation.

“In the more than forty years that bariatric surgeries have been performed, there have been no randomized, controlled clinical trials that have shown any long-term improvements to actual health or that lives are saved or extended by these surgeries — not any of the dozens of types and variations being performed, and certainly none of the new procedures claiming to be better and safer.”

“The Mayo Clinic reported in 2000 that 20% to 25% of gastric bypass patients develop life-threatening complications, but the recent Lap-Band U.S. clinical trials done to earn FDA approval reported 89% of patients had at least one adverse event, one-third of them severe. Complications from lap bands are more likely to require surgery to correct and the bands result in so much more vomiting, they are known as “surgical-induced” bulimia among medical professionals. While many consumers believe the newer, less invasive laparoscopic bypasses and lap-band procedures (which tighten a constrictive band around the stomach to make it smaller) are safer, they merely have their own “unique set of complications,” according to surgeons Shanu N. Kothari, M.D., and Harvey J. Sugerman, M.D. writing in Healthy Weight Journal. Ulcerations and the bands eroding into the stomach can happen and usually are why the bands are not reversible or removable”

“Most bariatric patients are subjected to a lifetime of severely calorie-restricted diets and are unable to eat a full variety of foods, with average calorie intakes under 1,000 calories the first year and after three years the average is still 1,386 calories. The unhealthfulness of long-term starvation-level diets (even uncomplicated by malabsorption) and protein shortages have been well proven to significantly shorten people’s lives. Vomiting after gastric bypass procedures occurs in up to 68.8% of cases and can become chronic, resulting in severe malnutrition, according to Brazilian surgeons in a 2005 study published in Obesity Surgery. Their study found weight loss was 10% higher among patients who become chronic vomiters.”

So that is all fine and good. I can imagine my mum, and others like her, who have been taunted and told that they are lazy, sick, and a crutch on society, that the risk of vomiting isn't that big of a deal. I can also imagine that the thought of eating less than 1000 calories a day is not daunting because I don't think my mother has eaten more than 1400 calories a day that since I knew how to calorie count myself (age 12). To be fair, not everyone has the chronic vomiting, not everyone has complications. Even if there is no proof that they help you beyond you being lighter, there is the chance you might be able to shop in a store that isn’t just for fat people. Something I can tell you, now that I am pregnant, would be a blessing. Even if I could wrap my head around that, my mother’s motivating goal is life span. She wants to be around for her grandchildren.

"based on studies of nearly 63,000 operations presented at the American College of Surgeons 2003 Clinical Congress, surgeons reported that an average of 2% of patients die within the first 30 days as a direct result of their primary surgery, but rates were as high as 6% with some surgeons and medical centers. Other surgeon reports have found mortality rates are three times higher in patients over age 55, three times higher in African Americans than whites, 2.8 times higher for men than women, and highest among patients who are the most “obese” (up to 12.5 times higher for laparoscopic gastric bypasses) — the very patients the surgeries are supposedly to help.”

“The most objective mortality data available to date was in a study published in JAMA, led by Dr. David R. Flum, M.D., MPH, of the Department of Surgery at the University of Washington, Seattle. They looked at actual 1-year death rates for all Medicare beneficiaries who had had bariatric surgeries in Medicare-approved centers from 1997 to 2002. Of the 16,000 patients, with an average age of only 35-54 years, death rates at one year averaged 4.6%, but among patients 65 to 74 years old, nearly 13% of the men and about 6% of the women died. In patients 75 and older, half of the men and 40% of the women had died.”

“To put these numbers into perspective, by comparison, a coronary bypass has a 2.6% mortality rate, yet those are mostly done on elderly patients who are seriously ill with multiple health problems. “

“The American Society of Bariatric Surgery estimated 177,600 bariatric surgeries were performed in 2005. Tallying the mortality rates found for each age and gender found in the study by Dr. Flum and colleagues, about 8,000 people died from these surgeries in 2005, two-thirds women. Frequently cited is that these surgeries are life-saving and that the risks of dying from the surgeries are less than those from their “obesity.” Certainly prospective patients believe this for themselves, too.”

So when my mother considers butchering herself for the sake of her grandchildren, I can't help but wonder when the finger pointing at fat people is going to stop. If it ever stops during my mothers lifetime, I doubt it will sink in. I come from a family that celebrates weight loss. Where talking about what diet you are on and how fantastic you look as a result, are ways of showing love. No one ever puts you down if you are fat, but you get a lot of love if you are trying to lose weight. I am in fierce defense of my mother, because I think she represents many fat people. She works out regularly, she eats a very low calorie diet, she hates the way she looks, she thinks it is going to kill her.

She thinks this way because of what you tell her.

When you compliment her on looking good, and ask her if she has lost weight.

When you tell her about the diet that worked so well for your colleagues.

When you congratulate her on losing weight.

When you have ads that have people crying at their new found happiness once they are thin.

When you tell her that beauty is on the inside.

When you yell "fat pig" at her when she crosses the street.

When you say that she is unworthy of dressing in fashion because she is fat and don't provide clothing made beyond a size 22.

When you make all plus sized clothing available only online because it takes up too much room on the shop floor.

When you compliment her on her healthy choices when she is at the check out till at the grocery store.

When you laugh at her when she pushes herself out of her car or needs a hand getting up off the ground.

When you presume her knee ache is because she is fat.

When you consider her week and without self control.

The only way my mother, and millions like her, don't exhibit self control is that they participate in the same mentality as you (the media/society). Fat people (overweight, obese and morbidly obese), according to the same media, are over half the population in the USA. If this is the case, they are the majority allowing the minority to make them feel like they are unworthy.

I wish my mother could face her value. I wish she could see her body for what it is. A beautiful tool. One that has been told it is not up to par for all of her life. It is no wonder her measures are getting more extreme.

In the end, being fat will probably kill her. But not in the way she thought.

*All quotes are from this Junkfood Science article.

2009-04-05T23:03:00.001+01:00

This week has been everything from friends with brain cancer to finding out my mum was going to have weight loss surgery without telling me. The surreal nature of it all is slow to unravel and deeply personal. I did, however, get some of my pottery from the kiln.

Cumbrian Walks

2009-04-03T11:42:00.002+01:00

Daffodils by By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

2009-04-01T16:30:00.003+01:00

The following poem was written after Wordsworth found these wild daffodils on the side of the road in Ullswater, Cumbria. After a powerful weekend, this little burst of calm sunshine was a welcome break prior to the seven hour drive back to the farm.

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Kitchen Duty

2009-03-28T13:25:00.001Z

One of my favorite foods, and one that is rather expensive to buy fresh, is ravioli. I decided to make some yesterday. Although the pasta was thicker than it should have been, I can see that it isn’t going to be as hard as I thought to make it a regular practice.

These bouts of domesticity come in waves, like wearing makeup. When I do them, I do them all. I am a slave in the kitchen, baking, cooking, cleaning. That was yesterday. Today I will eat popcorn and have a nap in the middle of the afternoon.

2009-03-26T11:31:00.001Z

My week has been one hard conversation after another. It has left me with little to say. Now that I am suitably numb, I am going to pass along a little addictive site:

www.pipl.com

Go on... see where you are on the web.

Ostara: Spring Equinox

2009-03-21T18:17:00.004Z

We have reached one of the two times a year that day and night are equal. A time where the cold of winter starts to seep away (if we are lucky) and the hopeful colours of spring flash on the side of the road in the forms of daffodils and tulips. The name of the festival is Ostara.

The word sounds similar to Easter, and in fact has the same origins. Easter is named after the goddess of the spring…Eostre. Eggs and small cakes were left as offerings to the goddess. Apparently she changed birds into rabbits during the winter so they could survive. The rabbits were still able to lay eggs and would leave highly decorated eggs for the goddess as a thank you for helping them survive the winter.

D has been away for the past few weeks and arrived yesterday (Ostara) around midday. This didn’t allow for much to be done but we did manage to blow eggs and dye them. I used the yokes to make lemon poppy seed muffins and tonight we are having a frittata to further our celebration. The alter has yet to change. Today was far too beautiful. We finished one more wall of the greenhouse and marveled at the mint, lemon balm and little springs of sage that survived the winter.

More important than the actual acts done during the day, are the thoughts that go along with this holiday. This is the time to plant new ideas, new dreams into the soil of the mind. I need to spend some time thinking about what these are to me. I seem to be floating around my life and am not having many intentions come into my life. However there is lots of newness coming my way, and for that I am thankful.

Happy Spring everyone. I hope you can feel the energy shift, even if the winter hasn’t, wherever you are.

Termites hatching...

2009-03-19T18:25:00.003Z

It seems a long time ago that I took this photo. The first year it happened it seemed like it would never end. Hours of these recently hatched and horny as heck bugs trying to mate under my porch light. Because I didn't know what they were, and because I had a bed ridden friend in my care, I decided I should nuke them. I sprayed them like mad, with a spray that lingers in the air and deters newcomers. When I woke in the morning there were thousands of dead bugs, but there was also dead lizards, dead frogs, a dead rat and a dead bird. I killed an eco system. the following year I decided to leave them and they were gone by morning, sans wings (which were really hard to sweep up). The following years I did the same, and this was taken the last year I lived in Thailand. My friend, in the background, now lives in the UK (at the time he lived in Indonesia) as well and when we get together we often smile at the ways our lives have changed.

St Paddy's Day 2009

2009-03-17T17:10:00.003Z

I posted this last year, and think it is just as appropriate this year. Thanks to "Stuff White People Like" which I think should be re-named "Stuff White People in North America like" because most of it doesn't apply to people in Europe.

"Normally if someone were to wake up at 7:00 in the morning, take the day off work, and get drunk at a bar before 10:00 a.m., they would be called an alcoholic, and not in the artistic, edgy way that white people are so fond of.
On March 17th, however, this exact same activity is called celebrating St. Patrick’s day. This very special white holiday recognizes Saint Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland who helped to bring Catholicism to the Emerald Isle. His ascetic life is celebrated every year by white people drinking large amounts of Irish-themed alcohol and listening to the Dropkick Murphys.

It is also the day of the year when you can make the most gains in your social and professional relationship with white people.

Most of the time, white people consider celebrations of European heritage to be racist unless they omit large swathes of the 16th through 20th centuries. But since the Irish never engaged in colonialism and were actually oppressed it is considered acceptable and encouraged to celebrate their ancestry. For this reason, 100% of white people are proud to claim that they are somewhat Irish.

A big part of St. Patrick’s Day is having white people feel particularly upset at the oppression of their ancestors that has in no way trickled down to them. If you find yourself talking with a white person who tells you about how their great grandfather was oppressed by both the English and the Americans, it is strongly recommended that you lend a sympathetic ear and shake your head in disbelief. It is never considered acceptable to say: “but you’re white now, so what’s the problem?”

It is also worth noting that on this day, there is always one trump card that never fails to gain respect and acclaim. When you are sitting at an Irish bar and someone orders a round of Guinness, you must take a single sip and while the other white people are savoring their drink, you say: “mmmm, I know it sounds cliche, but it really is true. Guinness just tastes better in Ireland.”

This comment will elicit an immediate and powerful response of people agreeing with your valuable insight. This statement also has the additional benefit of humiliating the members of your party who have not been to Ireland (and thus cannot confirm this proclamation). Having not traveled to Ireland and consumed a beer that is widely available in their hometown and throughout the world, they will immediately be perceived as provincial, uncultured, and inferior to you.

It is also strongly encouraged that you memorize the lyrics to “Jump Around.” It will come in handy."

Little lambs

2009-03-17T12:36:00.004Z

I walked over to the pasture, about 20m from my house, and peered over the fence. The field, full of mama ewes and their lambs were alerted to my presence. I tried to stand long enough that they would carry on with their grazing and I could watch without thinking I was disrupting them.

Little lambs chased each other around watering holes. Their legs spindly and slightly off balance. Umbilical cords still attached and high pitched bleating- I was overwhelmed by maternal instinct.

Keeping a distance, just in case, I was amazed at how a mother could stand at one side of the field and bleat, and 3 lambs would come running from the other side. They would meet with the mother lowering her head onto the lamb and then lamb going in for some milk. Then they would all run together around to another part of the pasture.

It had me smiling like a sentimental fool.

2009-03-16T21:46:00.003Z

I just went to take out the garbage. The country sky is so bright with stars. I could stay outside looking up forever. Then I heard it, the "baaaa" from the pasture. Then a half dozen sheep started to bleat. In all the sound I heard the precious voices of very small lambs.

Welcome to the world little ones. Enjoy the night sky. The cold air and the company of ladies that will keep you warm tonight.

I know where I will be walking with my camera tomorrow.

Now for a laugh...

2009-03-15T10:35:00.001Z

This is absolutely fantastic:

And so is this:

Pedophilia in the media

2009-03-13T16:40:00.002Z

For all the restrictions the Thai media have on what they publish, it is interesting what is allowed in the media. Recently there was an article in the Phuket Gazette about a British man who has been detained on pedophile charges.

In Canadian media, CTV reports a similar situation from a 2007 by saying:

"Three years ago, German police found digital photographic images of a man allegedly having sex with Asian boys.”

In Thailand, the Phuket Gazette uses language far more graphic and there is a photo of the person in question.

“Last night, Kathu Police Superintendent Grissak Songmoonnark showed the media a dossier of evidence containing graphic images of a Caucasian man alleged to be Mr Young performing anal sex on a boy whose age was estimated at no older than twelve.

Other incriminating images included pictures of the suspect having oral sex performed on him by young boys.”

It would provoke an interesting and heated debate to question which type of journalism is more ethical. Do you think there is a difference? Do you think one is better than the other?

Spring Photo Dump

2009-03-11T15:51:00.003Z

Most of my days have been spent mucking about in my own yard or staring vacantly at the mess in our house. Along with recent hike photos, I decided to add some of the "around the house" photos to this photo dump.

My man picking wild garlic. Spring is here.

Baby clothing, Macworld, a map of our area and a wildflower book... all on the couch to my right.

Candy for my cravings to my left.

Tulips about to bloom.

A beautiful daffodil that has been trying to bloom for weeks.

Ooooo... I planted our strawberries!

Our first garden variety daffodils are coming out!

This plant was a gift from D this winter. It has had flowers continually since it was brought home. Bright circles of sunshine on very rainy days.

Fat Mama Fights Back to Deaf Ears

2009-03-09T22:09:00.004Z

I belong to a pregnancy website that has forums where you can discuss issues that come along in your pregnancy. I belong to a few different groups. An eco group, a money saving group, a plus sized group and the group for women giving birth at the same time as me. Something that keeps coming up in every group, except the money saving one, is the negative perceptions women have in regards to their changing bodies. Now, as regular readers/ friends, you know that for the past few years I have been on a bit of a crusade about fat acceptance, especially in my own world.

What happens, though, when reading these forums, is that I almost want to shake these women into seeing the shit they write about themselves. I am not used to being around women who don't think about their self image in relationship to what they are taught to think. I don't really know how to deal with complete self loathing AND the ultimate fear of fat.

There is a woman whose partner said that he expected her to be her pre-baby weight within 4 weeks of giving birth. She is on a diet so she doesn't gain much weight during her pregnancy. It isn't like she is dumb, or infantile, she is a professional woman who is chosing to ignore statistics about her own health and that of her child.

Another woman talked about how she was shopping at the Gap and how an assistant, when told the woman was pregnant, said: Oh, I just thought you were fat. The comments to this woman's post were irate. All these pregnant women coming together to rally behind the offended. "You aren't fat" "I would have punched her in the face" "what a cow" "She's just jealous" "Was she fat?" "You can lose weight, she will always be a ____"

To which I wrote this:

You know, as someone who is actually fat, what I find insulting is that even if you were fat, it is not her job to judge you. It is her job to help you. I think this is a really awesome time in our pregnancy, before we really show but as our bodies change, to evaluate our femininity and roundness. We are supposed to be round now. I keep reading women in a panic about looking like "a fat cow" and the like. Well, I can tell you, from a fat cow's perspective, that ignorance is it's own penalty and people who judge (like that woman in the shop) will get theirs. It is a time, like we have on this forum, to rally as women not put women down.
Find your sexiness. We are the fricken bringers of life. We are goddesses. We are creating a new person. We hold the power, because without us, the population can't survive. That is heavy shit.

We are way above infantile humiliations.

Somehow I don't think it will make a difference.

the quiet hour

2009-03-07T10:36:00.001Z

It is a soft morning. The sun is high but doesn’t seem bright in the ever raining sky of Kent. We had a long night. I woke to what sounded like people moving furniture upstairs. It was 3am and some strong sentiments regarding my neighbors started to arise. Then I realized it was the boiler over heating. I went downstairs and saw that we had left the flu and the air flow (temperature regulator) fully open on the Rayburn before going to bed. This means that the temp was jacked up as high as it would go. The Rayburn heats our water and the water was boiling in the attic. After letting the water run for ten minutes and watching the brown sediment that was released from the boil fill the bathtub, I thought about the hour.

3am.

The quiet hour.

Once the boiler became still our house returned to silence. In a matter of months I may be up at this time feeding our kid. As it stands now, I am trying to respect the amount of time I am given to rest. I relish in my comfort as I wake and know I can go back to bed. I leave things on the ground, small things, choking hazards, and am thankful for the ability to be lazy. I compare my thoughts on this time to the question “What would you do if you knew you were going to die in a year?”. Now now then, I don’t associate having a kid with death. I think it is rare in life when you actually know a time line when your life is going to make a major change. I also think it is a good time to think about your Self, because as many parents tell me, you don’t get to very often once your little one is born.

Work

2009-03-04T13:46:00.001Z

There are moments when you see how much you have grown. For me, these are small moments where I smile to myself and carry on with what I was doing. Recently, a pattern I thought long gone has reemerged in my life. Desperation surrounding money. When I was younger, and I started out as a massage therapist, I would wish for any client to come through my door. I just wanted to pay the rent. I just wanted to be able to eat half decent food. My clients at that time were a mixture of hypochondriacs, flakes who would come in late for appointments, people who would argue over money, people who would try to get bargains, and every now and then… a perv. Slowly, over time, I started to hone in on my skill set, target specific clients and settle for less money (due to less clients) for people who were actually invested in their own health.

Since the recent drop in the economy, my mentally healthy, proactive clientele has slowly dropped away. Now I am around four months away from not being able to work and don’t have any clients. In a desperate manifestation, I managed to have two people call me this week. Both are very similar to the types of clients I saw at the beginning of my practice and this depressed me to no end. One just canceled and I was quite thankful.

I guess this is the time to really take a look at where I am. I need to get in touch with the fact that I have a kid inside me, instead of just the symptoms that it is creating. I need to figure what it is I want because part of me really has no desire to take on anyone's “stuff” by massaging them.

Evaluation.

2009-03-02T19:53:00.002Z

Speaking of all things anal....

I have officially discovered the joy of prunes.

Taking up the ass for Facebook to see

2009-02-28T18:04:00.004Z

This week www.boingboing.net reported a story about two nurses who were fired after taking photos of a patient’s x-rays. They apparently also posted them on Facebook. The x-rays were of a sex toy lodged in the man’s rectum.

First things first... there are some ethics issues to address. Would I find it interesting/ funny as fuck/ something I would want to tell people about if I was in the same position? Yes. Would I ignore the ethics teachings I must have had to become a nurse in the first place and take photos? I would be very tempted but probably not. Would I post the photos online? Fuck no!

Second things second… the use of anal toys. Okay peeps, lets have some backdoor information from your friendly neighborhood ex-sex shop working educator. Your rectum is the last part of your digestive tract before the feces hits the anus and gets lodged into the world.. The thing is, your anus can expand really fricken big and your rectum can hold a LOT. It can hold even more when vibration or with genital stimulation happens first. Unlike a vagina, where things can only go so high before reaching an end, you can actually loose things in your ass. SO, how you do stop this from happening? The best way is to make sure all things that go up your ass have a flared base. Both butt plugs and dildos* have a flared base and both can vibrate if you have the ability to insert a bullet vibrator into the end.

I have the feeling this is going to be a long series of posts on the joys of anal toys. For now I am just going to leave it there. Buy flared based toys. Don’t use phallic objects from around the house that don’t have a flared base. Shoving stuff up your ass can be fun, but not if it gets lost because then some nurses are going to post your anal play experience on Facebook.

*Dildos have varying degrees of a flared bases. Ask at a shop the circumference that suits your level of conformability and experience.

A woodland walk to soothe the soul

2009-02-27T17:08:00.001Z

The sun was so bright when we woke up this morning we decided a trip to a new forest was in order. The chosen land was a mile and a half trail with some rather varying terrain. The bluebell leaves were just starting to come up from the soil. In another 6 weeks the forest floor, with its small streams winding through the ravines and man made wooden bridges perfect to make wishes from, will have a bright blue carpet as far as the eye can see. We picked a bit of wild garlic and some honeysuckle. The first was to smell and eat, the second to grow up our fence. It was the most perfect walk I have been on in ages. I am tiered enough from the ups and downs to make myself feel appreciative of the exercise, yet not so much that I am wishing I never went. The best thing about this particular nature reserve is that we didn’t see anyone until the very end of our walk. There are lots of uncommon birds to identify and whose songs are loud and clear. There are many different types of trees which means in the fall there are going to be LOTS of mushrooms and fungus in general. The welcome sign in the parking lot suggests a whopping 700 different species of fungus alone! (swoon)

What a perfect way to spend a beautiful spring day. Now, while some of my fellow Canadians are sitting in yet another 10cm of snow, don’t be dismayed. Next week we are back in storm central and back to the-rain-that-never-ends that England is famous for. This is a break in the grey. It will continue this weekend and our plan is to erect our green house. Hotdogs and coleslaw to follow. Milk that spring vibe!

Happy day everyone… hope some daffodils are blooming in your area.

The Fat Argument...

2009-02-25T12:46:00.003Z

Something that I have come across in the arguments against fat acceptance is the thought that at some point you can be "too fat". That fat acceptance is taking a stand saying all fat people are healthy. I think the point is being missed. As far as I can tell, as as far as I am concerned, fat acceptance is fighting for the rights of equality. There are lots of fat people who are unhealthy, and there are thin people who are unhealthy. Getting good health care shouldn't be the privilege of the thin. I would like to sit in a restaurant, doctor's office, airplane, with chairs available that are wide enough for a fat person's hips. I would like to be able to buy snowpants, rent skis, ride a bike that isn't an adult trike, buy maternity clothing that comes in my size or can handle my weight.

So to the young folks in the waiting room at the fetal scan who teased me because I needed to ask for a chair without arms in the waiting room that had didn't have a chair that fit my ass, I hope the child you bring into the world opens your eyes to the privilage you expressed when you openly laughed at me. It was a mighty couragous thing to do, considering the volitile state I am in.

Mr. Sun

2009-02-21T13:05:00.000Z

With my husband away in the middle east, I have the opportunity to have sole responsibility of my day. No outside demands and no cute ass to watch. The air outside is crisp but the sun is bright. I have the wedding quilt my mother made hanging on the line, sprayed with a lavender linen spray I made moments before. The laundry is going and dust is showing on all bare surfaces. If my man was home we would be outside without a doubt. We would be hiking, gardening, avoiding all responsibility. With a bright sun, there is an obligation in our house to suck every last ray up we can.

Today I am attempting to bring that sun inside.

Not only inside my house but inside my heart. I have missed happiness. I have been consumed with the ill feeling of morning sickness for a few months now. With only slight flickers of nausea, I rejoice in the change of seasons in this pregnancy.

little baby a-ok

2009-02-18T18:48:00.001Z

I am a bit out of touch with my blog this week because I have been out of town helping some 12 year old boys with their biology, chemistry and physics revisions. Topics covered included sexual reproduction and health effects of drug use.

Do you have any idea how surreal it is to talk to young men about how many sperm are ejaculated (300 million) and how many actually make it to the ovum (100) while you are sitting there in front of them pregnant? Or how strange it is to be talking to kids about their textbook lessons regarding the effects of pot on their bodies when you used to smoke a bag a day? One thing I like about being in this position is the fact that you can tell the truth. For example, they learned that a woman’s cycle lasts 28 days and that they ovulate on day 14. Which, as most people my age know, is largely untrue. After talking to them about what they had to memorize I just let them know that one day, when they have sex, to know that a woman can ovulate on other days surrounding their 14th day and to always use a condom. Or, for example, when they are taught that pot is a hallucinogenic and acid is a hallucinogenic, it is important to know they aren’t the same kind of drug.

I kept myself busy so I wasn’t constantly thinking about today. Today was our first baby scan. After reading stories about parents who find out at their scan that their baby was dead, I couldn’t help but have a slight worry. Today, though, we watched our kid’s heart beat.

Life feels really good.

Tomorrow I am off again for more talk of sex, drugs, and elemental compounds. It will be nice when this week is over and I can rest at home with my little blurry photos of my kid.

Fat Friday (Sunday): Fat Pregnancy in the Media

2009-02-15T19:04:00.004Z

There has been a lot of media attention surrounding the negative effects of obesity on pregnancy this week. First, an article came out from the Daily Mirror about a study that was done out of King’s College London. That led to an article about low birth weights from fat mums in the Times and in the Telegraph. The BBC busted out with a doozie, including a nice side bar summery of the risks obesity has newborns:

"PREGNANCY RISKS FOR OBESE WOMEN
Small babies
Large babies
Pre-eclampsia
Diabetes
Premature births
Stillbirth
Instrumental deliveries
Postpartum haemorrhage
Caesareans"

The problem with studies, and the articles that are spewed through out the media once they are released (and especially when they come with a press release as part of their scientific publication), is that headlines are read and that is all. The Daily Mirror is a tabloid magazine. They publish articles with titles such as “Deathly Peril to Fat Mums”. The article states that obese mothers are at a higher risk for pre-eclampsia, premature and underweight babies. That is right… UNDERWEIGHT. Which is a much different story than the ones I have read that say fat women need to watch out because they have fat babies they can’t push out. The thing is, although this study did find these statistics, they also used women from another study that had targeted women considered a high risk for pre-eclampsia.

NHS:

“It reports results from a subgroup of women who were originally involved in another study (a randomised controlled trial) examining the effects of vitamin supplementation on risk of pre-eclampsia in women at risk of the condition.”

“To set the context for their study, the researchers report that maternal obesity carries well established risks of complications, including for gestational diabetes (high blood glucose during pregnancy), pre-eclampsia (high blood pressure during pregnancy), high birth weight babies and stillbirths.

However, it is not known how maternal obesity specifically affects women who are pregnant for the first time. In this study, the researchers were able to explore what the risk of poor pregnancy outcomes was in obese women who were pregnant for the first time.”

According to Plus Size Pregnancy they have no proof that losing weight counter acts these findings. They just assume that it will.

The big deal, in my opinion, is the fact that there was no control group for the study. These women were already high risk for pre-eclampsia and they were only compared to each other. The NHS states:

“The findings of the study are difficult to interpret because of the lack of a comparison group. In a study questioning whether obesity is a risk factor for something, it is usual to have a non-obese comparison group. Equally, in a study questioning whether first-time pregnancy in obese women is more risky than other pregnancies, it is usual to see first-time mothers compared with mothers with one or more previous pregnancies.” (highlighting added)

And then, The New York Times puts out this: Obesity During Pregnancy Linked to Infant Birth Defects

The article begins:

“Obese women are more likely to have babies with rare but serious birth defects, including spina bifida and other neural tube defects, and to a lesser degree heart anomalies, cleft palate and hydrocephaly, a new study confirms.”

Then:

“Dr. Laura Riley, medical director of labor and delivery at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, said she was skeptical of the findings regarding babies of overweight women. She pointed out that pre-pregnancy weight is often self-reported in studies, adding, “People lie about their weight.” If obese women underestimated their pre-pregnancy weight in their reports, they may have inadvertently been included in the category of overweight rather than obese mothers, skewing the results, she said.”

“This confirms what we know and certainly tells us the association between obesity and neural tube defects is real,” said Dr. Riley, adding that she routinely advises her obese patients to lose weight or consider bariatric surgery before becoming pregnant.”

This is where you lose me completely. It is better to consider bariatric surgury before becoming pregnant?!! What?!!

As JFS sites:

“The Mayo Clinic reported in 2000 that 20% to 25% of gastric bypass patients develop life-threatening complications, but the recent Lap-Band U.S. clinical trials done to earn FDA approval reported 89% of patients had at least one adverse event, one-third of them severe. Complications from lap bands are more likely to require surgery to correct and the bands result in so much more vomiting, they are known as “surgical-induced” bulimia among medical professionals. While many consumers believe the newer, less invasive laparoscopic bypasses and lap-band procedures (which tighten a constrictive band around the stomach to make it smaller) are safer, they merely have their own “unique set of complications,” according to surgeons Shanu N. Kothari, M.D., and Harvey J. Sugerman, M.D. writing in Healthy Weight Journal. Ulcerations and the bands eroding into the stomach can happen and usually are why the bands are not reversible or removable. A September 2003 and an August 2005 Blue Cross-Blue Shield TEC Assessment scientific review of the evidence on the newer procedures concluded they had also “not demonstrated improved net health outcomes.”

For an amazing review of some fact/ fiction on the risks of bariatric surgery check out this link. It is a short article and one that I have sent to friends pondering The Band (they got them anyway).

So yes, we know the media sensationalizes everything. Fat isn’t going to be any different. The reason why this is pertinent to me is because I am on a pregnancy forum where I belong to a sub group of fat soon-to-be mums. Each time one of these articles comes out a barrage of women freaked out that they are mutating their kid, killing their kid, going to have a fat kid, going to have a underweight kid, or their kid will be disabled all because they are fat. There are women crying and talking about the diets their doctors still have them on to lose weight while they are pregnant. Others who cry because their doctor says they won’t be able to get pregnant because they are too fat. Some write in desperation because the people performing the scans tease them when they can’t get a good angle of the baby through the fat on her belly. How many of these women are going to have more stress at the time of birth? How many are going to be worried that they are going to be judged for how well they perform? How many are going to have increased amounts of adrenaline causing a slowing of the final stages of birth and therefore increasing the need for a cesarean?

“The obesity-related medical research that gets most grant funding is that which supports the war on obesity — and that is very different from caring about fat people and supporting research devoted to improving medical care and health outcomes for the obese.” JFS

Today... tomorrow... oh, and 4 years ago

2009-02-12T22:35:00.003Z

Today: Blood sugar checked out okay. No gestational diabetes for this mama yet!

Tomorrow: Dawn till Dusk in Brighton

Today: Good friend visited the farm

Tomorrow: The company of two young boys, a husband, and 8 hours of imagination

Today: Content

Tomorrow: The memories of February 14, 2005

My thoughts develop legs, like wine swirled in a glass. Light catches on the hues of red revealing new aspects of a delectable experience. Thoughts drift from an unusual calmness to marbles of insecurities being dropped. I finally have some space inside my head and in my pretend day timer to decorate my slate with thoughts.

The image of D and I lying on beach chairs under the night sky, bellies full, laughing at stories about families and lifestyles, brings back feelings of contentment. I left that evening feeling thankful, rounded with smiles, good food and wine. Sand remained hidden in my belly button for two days after, due to a dirty glass. I would find one some and play with it as a nice little granular reminder. The reason I asked him out in the first place was because his presence made my eyes close and neck extend. I expanded but didn’t pick with the sides of my thumbs in nervousness because of it. The desire to listen and touch is a fun feather for the brain to titillate.

Over the week we ebbed and flowed out of each others space. Each time I felt this simple clean hope I would see him again but complete serenity if I never did. Those things never go hand in hand with me. There usually is a mucky residue of freak-out lingering in the background. I am not sure if it is because of D or because of my growth and understanding of what I appreciate about men through this past year and a half. Each meeting revealed a new solidity in my spirit and the discovery of different ways a man’s face can smile. The last night of his trip I finally asked if he wanted me to stay, in the smoothest way I could (jumbling of words vomited out with a smile) and when he said yes I sprinted into the bathroom to sing this song:

Just around the corner,
There's a rainbow in the sky,
So let's have another cup of coffee,
And let's have another piece of pie.

Trouble's like a bubble,
And the clouds will soon roll by,
So let's have another cup of coffee,
And let's have another piece of pie.
Let's Have Another Cup of Coffee
(Irving Berlin)
From Songs of the Depression

I managed a small jitterbug dance and unstuck my top lip that had adhered to my gums from the smile I was sporting. I casually went back to the group of people we were sitting with. Later I fell asleep with his heart beneath my hand, the smell of his neck in my nose and peace of mind to be sharing a bed with a beautiful man. When I woke up out of a hot haze and remembered where I was, I curled into him again and enjoyed the feeling of hair on skin. Good morning was muttered and smiles cracked the stillness in the air. I think I could have lain there all day, sopping wet from our heat, my hand on the back of his head or his fingers relaxingly caressing the side of my face.

The gentle curve of his mouth after a kiss and the desire to taste more has tiptoed into my thoughts for the past few days. Life catches up to me and I adapt to my solidarity. Bae is away and the silence that surrounds the vacant houses around me is noted. I walk with pie graphs entering into my mind, dividing feelings of delight, acceptance and insecurity into pretty colours of pink and red. I found the following art work by Mark Jennings Reese that seems to illustrate this imagery to a T. The small sliver is for insecurities, the rest… delight. I would draw a balloon over the entire thing if I didn’t think it would ruin it, to symbolize the breeze of desire to see this man again.

The Goddess in the Clay

2009-02-11T22:41:00.001Z

I just got back from my pottery class. I strayed from my usual mug and bowl turning and made a goddess etched platter. A design I have painted and carved and molded into many different art projects. Just not for a long time. It is the return of the goddess. The archetype of femininity. I can tell that the energy is there for the birth of ideas. My ideas. The nurturing that this energy provides allows for these ideas to come to fruition.

What is this spiritual garbley guck? It is a reprieve from the highs and lows that I have unleashed on my man. It is a motivation to express myself in a way that is constructive instead of the short tempered bursts. It is a chance to see beauty.

Have you looked for beauty today?

Remembering Africa

2009-02-10T19:08:00.001Z

I just needed to revisit these today.

Kimya Dawson's Smoothie Song... my new favorite

2009-02-09T10:52:00.001Z

D has had Kimya Dawson’s latest album “Alphabutt” downloaded on his computer for a few weeks. Today, while we were eating sushi, and I was getting impatient with the squishing sound of his chewing, he suggested we listen to it. He also suggested it will be my new favorite album. So I listened. It made me smile wide. This was my favorite song:

Smoothie

Hey Papa, make Mama a smoothie
make mamma a smoothie right now
Hey Papa, make Mama a smoothie
coz when Mama drinks a smoothie little baby goes WILD

And it starts splashing and a-splishn like a school of little fishes
If a school of little fish was in me
Then glub glub glub like a fart in the tub
like a fart in the tub inside of me
and then the head and butt start rollin
like two balls bowling, perfect games on the lanes inside me
then a great big kick up under my ribs
that feels like nothing else
but assures me of the health and the length and the strength of my little baby

Because when baby is feelin lazy
Mama goes crazy thinkin something’s wrong
And then Mama runs to Papa and she sings him this little song

Hey Papa, make Mama a smoothie
make mamma a smoothie right now
Hey Papa, make Mama a smoothie
coz when Mama drinks a smoothie little baby goes WILD

And it starts splashing and a-splishn like a school of little fishes
If a school of little fish was in me
Then glub glub glub like a fart in the tub
like a fart in the tub inside of me
and then the head and butt start rollin
like two balls bowling, perfect games on the lanes inside me
then a great big kick up under my ribs
that feels like nothing else
but assures me of the health and the length and the strength of my little baby

Hey Papa, make Mama a smoothie
make mamma a smoothie right now
Hey Papa, make Mama a smoothie
coz when Mama drinks a smoothie little baby goes WILD

Big Fat Friday: Intuitive eating and the right to have whatever relationship you want with your food

2009-02-07T14:11:00.003Z

In Thailand I lived in a situation where my household consisted of a Thai woman and her husband, myself and an elderly gentleman. The Thai woman was fat. While living with me she gained a considerable amount of weight. One evening, while sitting on our patio looking over the Andaman Sea, she sat down with a sandwich. Inside: butter, mayonnaise and chili sauce. We often teased each other about what the other ate. Fish heads, vs solidified moldy milk. When it came to this particular conversation though, I received an insight to poverty and one woman’s defiance of body ideology for pure pleasure. Bae, my friend, grew up in a small village in northern Thailand. She told me stories about how her family would suck on soil at a certain part of the year because they had no food. She lifted her sandwich and ate it happily saying, I don’t care if my husband leaves me because I am too fat. I am going to enjoy my food.

I had a similar reaction when when spending time with a parent I know. She feeds her children well, but eats a maximum of two meals a day and considers a cup of yogurt a meal. I consider a cup of yogurt a meal, when it has fruit and granola in it. One of the presumptions about being fat that offends me is the thought that I consume more than I should. “Should” being a relative term to the proportion of my ass to waist ratio. I recently realized I, in fact, do eat more than many of my thin friends. It is what I eat, though, that is not suspect. But is that wrong? In evaluating this, I also thought that most of my peers strive to live a healthy lifestyle. It is that our definitions of health that very. For many of my peers, thin= healthy. They chose their food through these glasses. For me health is not being obsessed with food choices, eating what my body needs and trying to be clear about the difference between needs and wants. This is called intuitive eating.

Now, as a quick disclaimer, when I lived in Thailand I worked out for about an hour and a half, six days a week. I ate less than I do here, but I drank a lot more. Oh, and I went dancing almost every night of the week. It was during the end of my stay that I started eating western food again, and also started on Dr. prescribed weight loss drugs. During those years I lost 100 pounds. My back went out for the first time, and I had uncontrolled uterine bleeding for a year. Since I left I have gained it all back, plus the 25% more that they say yo-yo dieters always do, and I have had only a handful of back flair ups since. I know I can be thinner but I chose not to pursue that path. Instead, I strive for my own definition of health and part of that is a friendship with food that defys my culture, my family, and most of my peers.

These are the principles of intuitive eating written by Evelyn Tribole, MS, RD and Elyse Resch, MS, RD, FADA.:

10 Principles of Intuitive Eating

1. Reject the Diet Mentality Throw out the diet books and magazine articles that offer you false hope of losing weight quickly, easily, and permanently. Get angry at the lies that have led you to feel as if you were a failure every time a new diet stopped working and you gained back all of the weight. If you allow even one small hope to linger that a new and better diet might be lurking around the corner, it will prevent you from being free to rediscover Intuitive Eating.

2. Honor Your Hunger Keep your body biologically fed with adequate energy and carbohydrates. Otherwise you can trigger a primal drive to overeat. Once you reach the moment of excessive hunger, all intentions of moderate, conscious eating are fleeting and irrelevant. Learning to honor this first biological signal sets the stage for re-building trust with yourself and food.

3. Make Peace with Food Call a truce, stop the food fight! Give yourself unconditional permission to eat. If you tell yourself that you can't or shouldn't have a particular food, it can lead to intense feelings of deprivation that build into uncontrollable cravings and, often, bingeing When you finally “give-in” to your forbidden food, eating will be experienced with such intensity, it usually results in Last Supper overeating, and overwhelming guilt.

4. Challenge the Food Police .Scream a loud "NO" to thoughts in your head that declare you're "good" for eating under 1000 calories or "bad" because you ate a piece of chocolate cake. The Food Police monitor the unreasonable rules that dieting has created . The police station is housed deep in your psyche, and its loud speaker shouts negative barbs, hopeless phrases, and guilt-provoking indictments. Chasing the Food Police away is a critical step in returning to Intuitive Eating.

5. Respect Your Fullness Listen for the body signals that tell you that you are no longer hungry. Observe the signs that show that you're comfortably full. Pause in the middle of a meal or food and ask yourself how the food tastes, and what is your current fullness level?

6. Discover the Satisfaction Factor The Japanese have the wisdom to promote pleasure as one of their goals of healthy living In our fury to be thin and healthy, we often overlook one of the most basic gifts of existence--the pleasure and satisfaction that can be found in the eating experience. When you eat what you really want, in an environment that is inviting and conducive, the pleasure you derive will be a powerful force in helping you feel satisfied and content. By providing this experience for yourself, you will find that it takes much less food to decide you've had "enough".

7. Honor Your Feelings Without Using Food Find ways to comfort , nurture, distract, and resolve your issues without using food. Anxiety, loneliness, boredom, anger are emotions we all experience throughout life. Each has its own trigger, and each has its own appeasement. Food won't fix any of these feelings. It may comfort for the short term, distract from the pain, or even numb you into a food hangover. But food won't solve the problem. If anything, eating for an emotional hunger will only make you feel worse in the long run. You'll ultimately have to deal with the source of the emotion, as well as the discomfort of overeating.

8. Respect Your Body Accept your genetic blueprint. Just as a person with a shoe size of eight would not expect to realistically squeeze into a size six, it is equally as futile (and uncomfortable) to have the same expectation with body size. But mostly, respect your body, so you can feel better about who you are. It's hard to reject the diet mentality if you are unrealistic and overly critical about your body shape.

9. Exercise--Feel the Difference Forget militant exercise. Just get active and feel the difference. Shift your focus to how it feels to move your body, rather than the calorie burning effect of exercise. If you focus on how you feel from working out, such as energized, it can make the difference between rolling out of bed for a brisk morning walk or hitting the snooze alarm. If when you wake up, your only goal is to lose weight, it's usually not a motivating factor in that moment of time.

10 Honor Your Health--Gentle Nutrition Make food choices that honor your health and tastebuds while making you feel well. Remember that you don't have to eat a perfect diet to be healthy. You will not suddenly get a nutrient deficiency or gain weight from one snack, one meal, or one day of eating. It's what you eat consistently over time that matters, progress not perfection is what counts.

Economic England

2009-02-05T12:42:00.004Z

I was taking a walk on the farm the other day when I ran into a neighbor and a farm hand. We had a small chat about the farm, the snowstorm that devastated England, and eventually got on the topic of the “credit crunch”. Both men said that they have more work now than they ever have had before. I am a definite outsider in this conversation. My neighbor shoes horses and the farm hand is a staple man on the farm. Both of them live their lives close to animals, machines and the earth. I have been seeing less than a quarter of the people I used to. My husband has just been asked to cut his rates to a price he was charging ten years ago. If he says no, will he get work from this person again? Will he be canceled off the only jobs he has lined up for the next few months? Where is the dignity in this situation? Horses always need to have shoes, farm equipment always needs to be fixed. People don't "need" my husband and I. We are disposable income. It makes me wonder how bad it is going to get.

Oh... and is anyone else freaked out about this?

She's Crafty!

2009-02-04T10:44:00.003Z

A few years ago I was all about pop-ups. I think my first gift to D was a little pop-up book and I had every intention in the world to be the first personalized x-rated pop-up designer. Alas, when it comes to crafting, I enjoy mixing it up and changing genres completely. One thing that is consistent is card making. Usually I can combine whatever my thrill is at the moment and incorporate it into the card. I could tell, with these three, that I am a bit rough around the edges, but never the less, they were fun to make with each person in mind. All of them are 3D, meaning the layers are raised off each other.

I think my next project will be to finish off a canvas I started before I was pregnant. It was a fertility project and that somehow seems a bit unneeded at the moment.

Effects of Lambing on Human Pregnancy

2009-02-03T10:40:00.003Z

Sheep have a special place in my heart. My name, for one, means ewe or little lamb, in Hebrew. It is lambing season here on the farm. The time when the sheep give birth and there is an awesome opportunity to cuddle new little lambs. Not for me, though. No this year. According to Country Doctor sheep can carry these three different illnesses: Chlamydiosis (EAE), Toxoplasmosis and Listeriosis.

EAE effects on human pregnancy are “severe, sometimes life-threatening, disease in the mother and stillbirth or abortion.”

Toxoplasmosis on the other hand, has a much lower risk of infection. However, because it can be contracted from cats as well, it is what we hear about the most. When “acquired for the first time in pregnancy, may lead to infection of the foetus and this may lead to congenital malformation. Some affected babies may develop eye disease in later life.”

Listeriosis, similar to EAE has fatal consequences as well. “infection may cause abortion or premature birth. Infection in utero or during delivery may lead to septicaemia and meningitis with a 50-100% mortality.”

All of these are very rare to catch, even when helping with the lambing itself. They are a result of having contact with afterbirth, and / or contaminated food. That being said, it is important to be aware of the risks and judge accordingly. If you do have to help with sheep, it is important to wash thoroughly. Skin and clothing.

*All quotes are from Country Doctor.

Merry Imbolc

2009-02-02T13:45:00.006Z

The translation of Imbolc is “in the belly”. This is the time between winter and spring, where hints of the changing seasons start to creep into the periphery and give us thoughts of warmth.

It is a time where, in Kent, you can have a day of warmth and sun, enough to hang clothing out on the line followed by a day where the snow rushes the feathers of sparrows, robins and tits alike.

Early season daffodils are blooming, as are the snowdrops we didn’t even know we had.

It is the return of the Sun.

In other traditions this festival is known as Oimelc. This means “in milk”. It is the time when cows and ewes give birth and lactation begins.

It seems to be that most of our celebrations fall when D is out of town for work. Many of the ways in which I celebrate are stretched over the season with the goals alone starting on the day itself. For Imbolc this year, I feel especially attached. For obvious pregnancy reasons, the symbolism resonates with me.

Here are ways I am going to celebrate:

Phase 1 of spring cleaning. This is more of a great big tidy, than a spring cleaning. Over the winter, in our little Kent cottage, our world has slowly come down to the living room. It is where the fire is, and where the fire is… we are. Because of this we have bits and bobs from everywhere in the house in the living room. Mostly in a moat around the couch. Phase 1.. make a direct path to the couch again.

Another part of Imbolc is the hint of new beginnings. It is a time to day dream of things to come. I am in the middle of the worlds. With only another 5 months to be able to lug a 25 kilo massage table up the stairs, and a university debt that I can’t defer because I am not living in Canada. Time to create, daydream and manifest some ways to bring money in with integrity.

It is also a festival of light. A time to make candles for the rituals for the rest of the year. This is something I need to get supplies for. I have been looking for a more local source and found this company. Not only do they sell bees wax but they also sell sheep skins, something that I have been looking for locally, but unable to find. That is a post for another day, but for now, I am impressed with my find.

The last thing, and the most witchy perhaps, is the garden of light I am going to plant. I got the idea out of a book called : Celebrating the Great Mother: A Handbook of Earth-Honoring Activities for Parents and Children by Cait Johnson and Maura D. Shaw. The idea is to write down wishes, dreams, hopes, thoughts, and plant them in a small garden. Then taking birthday candles and planting them over the wishes, you light and symbolically let them grow. There is a lot to be grateful for and a lot that needs light shinning upon it this year. I look forward to this very much. I have always found great comfort in ritual. Not magical rituals, just any ritual that turns an ordinary event into something with value.

But as I said, these are goals for the season. The goal for today was to build my first English snow woman....

... goal completed!

Fat Ass Friday: Fat Pregnancy #1

2009-01-30T13:24:00.004Z

Yesterday I had my first doctor and midwife pregnancy appointment. Both of the women I see are grounded and open to hearing their patients. I felt comfortable saying that I didn’t want to have a fear based pregnancy on account of my high BMI. That I understand some of the perceived medical risks, and I don’t mind the extra measures taken to insure the safety of my kid, but I don’t want to be scarred into unnecessary procedures (early epidural) when all I want is a water birth. I was told that I wouldn’t be able to have a water birth at most facilities because I am considered high risk due to my weight. My doctor said that she wished there were different terms because I am not actually high risk, but should I have problems, it would be hard to find staff that could pull me out of a pool. I get it. I get some of it. I wouldn’t want to pull me out of a pool either. If I felt comfortable, I would have a pool here in my house. The walls are paper thin and the last thing I want is to have my neighbors listen to me give birth.

The meeting was largely based around my weight, but not in a negative way. A factual way. This is what the NHS will support, this is what they consider a problem, these are your options. In every book I have read so far, there is a list a mile long about how being fat risks fat children, and fat children require more c-sections, and have problems as they develop. I do not subscribe to this fear based mentality because fat women are told to have early epidurals, not for immediate pain relief but because being induced causes high rates of needing a c-section. I was over 9 pounds when I was born and my brother over 10. I am fat, my brother is not. We have both been healthy. My mother was induced because they were afraid of us getting any bigger and tearing my mum in half. Her labours were quick and she hardly tore. She did it without an epidural, because she was too far progressed to have one. She is my model for my pregnancy.

An amazing site that I have been reading lately is junkfoodscience. Sandy Szwarc, BSN, RN, CCP has done an amazing job posting about perceived truths in healthcare and nutrition. Read her credentials, she knows her stuff. One of the articles I have appreciated is in her series “Obesity Paradox”. The links to this series can be found in her sidebar. The one that is pertinent to this post is called Baby Paradox. It is about the benefit of having heavier babies at birth. It is definaly worth a read no matter if you are big or small.

The thing about pregnancy, especially if it is your first, is there is a certain sense of panic. This panic can send the most introspective, grounded and empowered person looking for outside opinion for comfort. Very few times do we find it outside of ourselves, and in pregnancy this is no exception. Remembering to question athority and remember, women have been having babies since the beginning of time. Our bodies are built for it. I am glad there is medicine available if I need it. I am glad to have my doctor on my side. I am also going to put forth a considerable amount of trust that my body will be the vessel I intend it to be.

Joining the massess

2009-01-29T11:08:00.001Z

Identity:

There is a newness I am adjusting to. It is yet another change of identity. I have never been one to go with the crowd. Throughout my life I have spent considerable energy on the alternative. I once had a friend who said she envied the freedom that my lifestyle then possessed, of course I was living in a VW van and didn’t have any debt. My answer to her was that it is as hard for me to sit still as it would be for her to keep moving. Over the years that has changed and I have started to enjoy being in one place for years at a time. I still consider myself part of the fringe, but I do have debt now, I do have a credit card, and I do have a monogamous relationship.

And now I am pregnant. And I am entering into the most popular activity the world over. Parenting. I am joining the biggest biological response that has ever been! I am expanding our species! I am no longer on the fringe. Even if I do alternative birthing and alternative child raising-we are still doing it. It is like when people have cupcakes at their wedding to do “something different”. That is me. In corduroy and flower prints, busting out a kid in a pool, joining the masses. The thing that makes me different? No maternity pay.

Education, Fat, Sex

2009-01-28T14:34:00.001Z

Interesting articles that have passed my way recently:

Dismissing critical pedagogy: Denis Rancourt vs. University of Ottawa by Jesse Freeston

This is an interesting story about a professor who is breaking the rules of learning to turn our automaton producing institutions into students keen to learn and have actual learning retention and understanding of the materials presented.

“Critical pedagogy, for Rancourt, is all about democratizing the classroom. Students are given input over the curriculum, they are encouraged to take classroom discussion wherever it may lead, and there are no grades. Rancourt's preference is a pass/fail system, but when the university refused to allow this he announced on the first day of classes in 2007 that all students would be receiving an A+.”

(Thanks Adam for the link.)

What Do Women Want? by Daniel Bergner

Is an article from the NY Times about a study at the University of Toronto about female sexuality. Hitting on interesting facts like woman can be heterosexual and still have strong sexual reactions to homesexual, male and female, copulation stimulus, and even animal stimulus. It is a compelling article that addresses the complexities of female sexuality.

“Meredith Chivers is a creator of bonobo pornography. She is a 36-year-old psychology professor at Queen’s University in the small city of Kingston, Ontario, a highly regarded scientist and a member of the editorial board of the world’s leading journal of sexual research, Archives of Sexual Behavior.”

(Thanks Lana for the link)

Does My Butt Look Fat? by Kate Harding

Kate Harding has a favored blog in the fat acceptance world. She is educated and at times provoking. This article, put out in Salon, is good example of how people are claiming the word “fat” and how identity is tied up in labels.

(Thanks Rachel for the link.)

Happy Reading..

2009-01-27T14:29:00.001Z

In the past few weeks, as I mentioned in an earlier post, I have learned of some fellow pregnant peers who had lost their babies. That, along side of the steadily dissipating group of women on my Babycenter birth group has led me to mild nervousness. I am eager to know our kid is kicking it up in there. That s/he is diggin the flat and growing up accordingly. I have also tried to limit the amount of time I read or watch anything too emotional or negative. The other night we watched Slumdog Millionaire and there were times in that movie I wasn’t sure if I was going to throw up, start hyperventilating, or collapse into a ball of tears. That, I told myself, would be my last really painful media input until I know a little more about the kid inside me. So I put down the pregnancy books and went to the bookshelf. Most of the books I have provoke emotion or memories that unsettle. I like that about reading. Getting really involved in characters and living along side them. I tried to pick one out that wouldn’t be too negative. Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri. I have read this book a few times before and always really enjoyed it. It is a small book, one that is good if you haven’t been reading for a while, and it is a collection of short stories. The commonality is that the characters are Indian. Some are from India, others are of Indian decent but are American. That is all I remembered. That and the short story the book is named after is about an Indian man who is a language interpreter for a doctor. I read the first story last night and had to laugh. A story about a couple that fell apart because of a miscarriage. Fuck.

It's alright to cry...

2009-01-26T19:10:00.002Z

The biggest change, yes even bigger than not wanting sex, over the past few months has been my need for absolute quiet. No music in the car, no music at home. I don't even like it when the one movie I watch a day with my man is too loud. My mind hurts. Well today that changed a bit. I am seeking out some peaceful music. Not Enya, just music that soothes. This reminded me of a tape I bought years ago called Celtic Lullabies. It is a children's lullaby compilation by a group called Eden's Bridge, although I only learned that while looking them up for this post. I bought it on a whim out of a discount basket in a kids store when I lived in the states. I used to listen to it when I needed to feel loved or soothed. I particularly liked listening to it before I went to bed. Not all the songs hit me, but the ones that did still do to this day. Remembering them made me remember some of my children's records that shaped my childhood. I think in a former blog, I wrote a post about Free to Be You and Me by Marlo Thomas and Friends. I revisited this album when I was in high school. One of those things my friends and I would do when we were being nostalgic, like listening to the books that came with a record where you had to turn the page at the sound of the chime. The thing that made that album so special, and why I am still convinced that it was largely responsible for the freaky feminist powerhouse I am today, is because it was written about gender equality and the need to dissolve gender boundaries. Songs about boys who play with dolls and girls who like worms. Songs about parents being people and not aliens, and that they have feelings too. Songs that taught a simple Canadian kid not to limit her experience or emotional expression because of her sex, race or place in society. Not bad for a kid's album.

This song in particular, goes through my head when people say I am an overemotional person. It goes through my head after I tell them to fuck off.

It's alright to cry,
crying gets the mad out of you,
raindrops from your eyes,
it might make you feel better.

It's alright to cry little boy. I know some big boys that cry too

This one I still think of when people say that I am doing a disservice to my child because I am fat.... It also makes me smile considering Micheal Jackson is talking about not wanting to change.

pregnant woman loses libido, reward offered

2009-01-25T18:47:00.003Z

At least something on the farm is up for it. I seemed to have lost my libido somewhere in the wrapping paper mess of Christmas. Perhaps, like my nausea, that too is from my multivitamins?
I knew of 3 people, other than myself who were pregnant. 2 of them have miscarried within the past week and the other doesn't seem to acknowledge that she is even pregnant. It is a vulnerable time, I know. It calls for putting up one's blinders and tuning out to the losses around you otherwise you start to live in perpetual fear.

So I focus on the little big things like my libido...

Feel free to send naughty photos, stories or toys to help inspire.

2009-01-24T19:38:00.000Z

walk...

2009-01-24T18:25:00.003Z

A break in nausea allowed for a small walk today. The longest walk I have taken in over a week. A week where my house became a prison. The smells, the darkness and the perpetual cold damp hung on me. In one day, after one walk, it is the comforting place we have made it be. It is home.

Beautiful Winter in the Weald

2009-01-18T17:20:00.001Z

Week 8

2009-01-17T16:10:00.000Z

I have been lost to the world this past week. Between massage clients and long trips to and from Brighton, I have managed to crash hard this weekend. Coming down with a cold while pregnant isn’t really the most fun thing I have ever been through. In all honesty, the vomit that seems to be perpetually lodged in the back of my throat, hasn’t been all that fun either. All my energy is consumed in the battle of negativity and neutrality. I strive to remember why it is that I am feeling the way I am, and not to panic that I may have 2 more months of this feeling. I keep re-reading the facts that my little one is beginning to move around now, that it has fingers and toes and that it is bigger than a strawberry. Those facts remind me that the general low feeling I am having is for a damn good reason. I also appreciate the fact that I can sleep until 1 in the afternoon on a Saturday because I have no obligations other than to be well for this kid. This is something I won’t be able to do in less than 7 months.

I think I expected to have an uncontrollable amount of love for my little one right from the beginning. The fact that I have to remind myself to be conscious and present of its existence beyond my own discomfort makes me feel a little less worthy of the situation.

2009-01-10T12:24:00.000Z

I have a compulsion to read blogs I hate by writers I generally despise. I figure it has to do with the desire to remember I have strong opinions. It is also to remember that there is a diversity of folks out there that really act, think, believe in this stuff. I read them in the morning and forget about them almost immediately afterwords. Then I sit in front of the fire and thank Every entity out there for the life I have.

2009-01-08T13:29:00.000Z

I may feel nauseous but all I am doing is crapping my brain out. I have morning sickness out my butt. What the heck? Must I do everything differently? I had an expectation that I would be swimming and doing yoga all the time, that long walks of reflection would occupy my days. I have done yoga a few times this week but can’t bring myself to go to a pool or for a walk. I have no energy and the energy I do have is very focused on the sick feelings that rumble in my tummy.

In other news, the doctor’s visit went really well. I really enjoyed meeting her. Very straight down the line yet very compassionate. As D said, she handled my over the top humor and exuberance well.

The bottom line is that I am being treated like a princess and couldn’t be more thankful for it. I miss having any women around me, for it seems the time to have your sisters close. That being said, the love I feel is strong I am being given the space I need to feel sick and do nothing.

It is good being pregnant.

2009-01-05T11:21:00.000Z

It has been a pretty great holiday season. From Dorset to Ontario, the traveling has been rather extensive. There has been lots of good food, good love and good news. It looks like D and I will be welcoming a little something something at the end of August this year. It has been a mixture of emotions, which hormonally makes sense. I once thought I was pregnant before and was elated. This time I am overcome by a sense of responsibility and life changing power. We are both overwhelmed with the information but are having fun getting into a more healthy routine.

I go to the doctors later today for my first check up. I hear that since I am “morbidly obese” that I won’t have a choice in my birth plan. No water birth, just straight up hospital birth… which is the last thing I would ever choose for myself. I am nervous about the exam and getting back into the main stream mentality that I am about to drop dead because of my fat ass.

Wish me luck.

ho ho ho

2008-12-20T09:18:00.001Z

What I like about the energy of the world, is if you make a wish sometimes you get it… 10 fold. So here I am, sitting in my little farm cottage, Christmas gifts all over the floor. I should be loading them into the car and be on my way to the in-laws, but I am not rushing. In a matter of moments my life will be dictated by other’s routines. English routines then Canadian routines. We sit, side by side, eating out porridge and reading news on our laptops. The only sound is these keys clicking and my husbands very audible chewing.

In the news, after much hope that we would be able to have a white Christmas in Canada, we see the flight cancellation warnings and can’t help but be a tad worried. Just a tad. Because really, it could all melt and become a slushy mess in a matter of days. Here, though, it is grey skies as usual. The trip out west to the in-laws should be beautiful, as always, and the adventures that we will have there will be worth a post or two.

2008-12-09T14:14:00.001Z

Inward
Hush

Creation within my self

Deciding it is time has proven to be almost as exciting as trying in the first place.

trying, and trying and trying...

2008-12-04T15:00:00.012Z

I know I have been out of the picture for a few weeks. The man is home. What can I say. Lots of birds to see, mushrooms to hunt, beds to romp in. Well only one bed really, but you know what I mean. Here is what I have been up to last month.....

Oh so cold

2008-11-26T13:58:00.000Z

It has been bitterly cold here in the Kent countryside. We actually had snow the other day, which was awesome! Not awesome if you are in southern Ontario, like some of my family, who are digging their way through 30cm of the stuff. However, this is a place that sees only a few days of snow a year and it doesn’t last much beyond noon so you need to love it up while it is there. The thing is we don’t have central heating. Yes, I know I talk a lot about this but in every other place I have been, heat is taken for granted. Here, heat is a treat. So while my life has been whirling around at mach speed, when I do get home to have a break… the cold penetrates me and it is all I can think about when it comes to writing.

2008-11-19T14:57:00.000Z

I got it!

2008-11-19T11:07:00.003Z

I have the song lyrics "Here I go again on my own, ? ? ? road I've ever known" on repeat in my brain.

45 minutes until my test.

Barf.

I have to make sure I bring the right money.

Barf.

The right paperwork.

Barf.

Put on deodorant.

Barf.

Not look too hippy. Not look like I am a stiff.

Barf.

Try to relax.

Barf.

The truth is, I don't care if I pass or fail. I care about being tested. In four hours from now I will either be happy with a new license, or happy, broke and without one.

2008-11-13T19:38:00.002Z

Just to further a pointless post, I will add that I am having an ideal night. After a day of cleaning, it is well deserved.

A GREAT beer:

A GREAT meal:

That was cooked in:

and a movie that cracks me up from beginning to end.

Add in a fire in the fireplace, two knitting needles with some yarn and you have one happy Canadian living in England.

The end.

2008-11-12T14:56:00.001Z

Here I go again…
I have to take another driving test. This one is to show I can drive a stick. Wink wink nudge nudge. How long has it been since I last took a driving test? AND the UK test is oh so hard. You can fail on attitude alone, or so the man booking it said to me after I snapped a sarcastic response to a lame question. Thanks for the tip, fucker. Anyhow, I have the test booked for a week from today. Barf. I hate tests! I hate the dentist. Good thing I am not going to have to do both in one day. This post is going no where…

Sorry.

2008-11-09T18:38:00.001Z

I have been having strong reactions. Pouncing on people who are giving me flack. A verbal slap without much thought warrants two, not just one, extended middle fingers. Right there, up in your face. Angry. Angry. Angry. I am angry all over the place. But it feels good. I don’t normally get angry. I get sad. I don’t pounce, I reflect. Now I am out there. All over them, all over you. I can’t help myself, it flies out of my mouth, all over the front of you like vomit. Then I have to apologize and make it clear that it isn’t the fact that I had the feelings, it is the fact that I couldn’t control my delivery. That is why I am sorry.

I want to believe

2008-11-04T15:35:00.002Z

I didn't sleep much at all last night. I have been reading The White Tiger, the recent Booker Prize winner, by Aravind Adiga. I am stuck in it. Not really enjoying it but unable to put it down. The style is unique and after reading four female Canadian authors in a row, I am feeling a bit of an adjustment to the protagonist. He is an Indian man. It brings back lots of memories of my trip there over ten years ago (holy cow). I read one chapter before I go to bed at night. On Monday nights I go to bed early because I need to leave the farm by 745ish to get to Brighton in time for work. One day a week I have to do this. Not everyday like some folks. One day I need to read one chapter and call it good. Put the book down- go to sleep. I went to bed at 10pm, by 1am I was cursing Adiga as much as I was cursing myself. When I headed out this morning, I had toothpicks supporting my eyelids to keep them open. Five miles down the road my car died.

Skipping the details of getting back home and organizing my life, I will cut to the fun part. I spent most of today watching the new X-files movie "I want to believe" and ironing teabags. This is my homemade gift for Christmas this year. Most of my family will be recieving an eight bag box. I have blended a nice mix of organic chamomile, lavender, and lime leaf. Then I have mortar and pestled the living shit out of them and am now filling bags up with a teaspoon, ironing the tops and getting sucked into the good ol' Mulder/Scully drama I used to live off of. I just need another movie to get myself sitting down long enough to make the boxes.

A bit of good has come from this whole car mess. The only real bad bit was that I was going to snuggle next to my man tonight in Brighton, which is where he is working at the moment. It is strange to know he is only an hour away. It makes me miss him all the more.

Election rant

2008-11-03T12:38:00.001Z

It is hard not to think of tomorrow as some sort of long awaited decision about the future of my family. I have read in different places how, regardless of who gets elected tomorrow, life isn’t going to pick up instantly. Also,that the problems in Canada and the UK aren’t as tied to the US economy as we are all saying they are and how we are using the States as a scape goat for our own problems. And as true as this is, I have been told by a spa that they pay their massage therapists lower wages because Americans aren’t traveling as much and they aren’t having the high turnover of wealth they once did. I have also seen my husband’s career plummet because bands and organizations (in America) aren’t spending as much on their tours as they used to, and downsizing his department is one of the ways to cut costs. My parents, who have lost more than a small house worth in their American pension from the exchange rate alone, are still paying the same amount for my father’s Parkinson’s meds. So as I sit here in the damp cold autumn of Kent with my bowl of porridge and the election news being set to refresh every few minutes, don’t tell me that what happens tomorrow doesn’t effect me.

Gurrumul

2008-10-26T10:31:00.001Z

I haven’t been buying music for a little while now. I don’t give new artists a chance, and I don’t hunt out new artists in the way I used to. Old favorites on repeat. It reminds me of my own parents. So when I haphazardly found this artist I was not only delighted by his voice, his message and his story, I was delighted that I found someone new to support.

http://www.gurrumul.com/site.html

Frosty morning hike

2008-10-25T12:44:00.002+01:00

This doesn't happen often...

I was up at 5:45 am today. It didn't get light until 7:30. As soon as it did....