how I KNOW Bruno Mars does drugs

Bruno Mars - The Lazy Song [Official Video]

leaving behind

"Sunset"

Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you
one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth.

leaving you, not really belonging to either,
not so hopelessly dark as that house that is silent,
not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing
that turns to a star each night and climbs-

leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads)
your own life, timid and standing high and growing,
so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star. 

-- Rainer Maria Rilke

I am leaving the Farm behind Tuesday morning, setting off for a week in Jamaica with my family; a wedding; saying goodbye to my brothers' singleton-dom. I am also being left behind while I am gone. Bestie Mummy Dearest and family begin their move to North Carolina, leaving behind family and friends here for the next great adventure. 

It is hard to be left behind, to not be sucked under by the undertow, the roar of an ocean in my ears screaming, "Move too! Adventures will follow! Start anew!" The thought of moving always makes me question "where I am in life," and "what am I supposed to be doing!?" So, I am glad for the time away this week, time for thinking and relaxing and quiet, but will be sad at the coming back to a definite hole in my life here in MA.

I probably won't be posting much for the next week, so be well.

I miss Seinfeld

Top Ten Best Seinfeld Moments

you're growing on me

Dear B.o.B.,
You're growing on me.
Sincerely, Monster

B.o.B - Nothin' On You [feat. Bruno Mars]

american boys only need apply

Can't get this song out of my head!

Estelle - American Boy [Feat. Kanye West]

I understand less than half of the words

"Calgary," Bon Iver

I was fascinated by this video...like a strange dream, very Pan Labrynth's-ish. To buy or listen to snippets of his new album, check here.

staring off and drooling

Life feels so busy right now.
I am almost there.
I see the finish line.
In just a few days I will be looking at the ocean, hanging with my family, drinking rum, and BE IN JAMAICA! I can't wait.
So excited I can only wheeze out short sentences!
Only a few more days of work.
SO much weeding in my gardens to do before I leave.
I need to pack!
I have to clean my cabin for Ian, who will be staying there and using the space re-retreatishly while I am gone. Agh. I am so in vacation mode already that I don't feel like blogging. Hmm...Garden:

• Cosmos are up and fern-looking, no flowers, not even indicators that they are flowers yet. I am sad that the thought that the flowers may have their first blooms while I am away.
• Sunflowers (multiple varieties) are up and getting big!
• Tomato plants are behind where I thought they would be--due to weird cool, hot/humid, tons of rain, cool, repeat weather we've had lately? Praying the tomatoes and tomatillos don't fruit until I get back
• Cucumbers are growing every day, not yet long enough for me to start "training" the net climbers yet...also hope this doesn't happen while I am away
• Squash and pumpkin have their first big leaves
• Peppers and Broccoli plants have surprisingly survived and look good enough

I am like a proud parent in all these achievements! 

Back at the cabin I finally feel settled. I am seldom at home much these days, but am trying to be home more nights. Had Kelly and RugbyGirl over for dinner the other night, Farmer MacDonald stopped in and was fed also--it was really nice to have company and laughter. Otherwise, I have been playing a lot of "swat and kill the moths" (no matter how hard I try they get in whenever I open the damn door!); I am getting to know the pair of luna moths who've appeared and love to fly as fast as they can into my window screens and doors. (I must admit this behavior was a little unnerving at first, but alas, now I love the thump thump of their dumb bodies); and have almost daily run-ins with the deer who are always around my house, both of us staring at each other and than going about our business. I

I feel like Homer Simpson, staring off and drooling. The library has been annoyingly SLOW tonight. SO SLOW...I guess it's a nice change...just making me SLEEPY! Guess I should go and start doing my library closing chores.

another reason

To be freaked out by pregnant women.

The Atlantic is rocking my world

This is a link to "9 classic poems first published in The Atlantic." It is awesomeness. REALLY. I loved this poem:

"A little bit about the soul"

A soul is something we have every now and then.
Nobody has one all the time
or forever.

Day after day,
year after year,
can go by without one.

Only sometimes in rapture
or in the fears of childhood
it nests a little longer.
Only sometimes in the wonderment
that we are old.

It rarely assists us
during tiresome tasks,
such as moving furniture,
carrying suitcases,
or traveling on foot in shoes too tight.

When we're filling out questionnaires
or chopping meat
it's usually given time off.

Out of our thousand conversations
it participates in one,
and even that isn't a given,
for it prefers silence.

When the body starts to ache and ache
it quietly steals from its post.

It's choosy:
not happy to see us in crowds,
sickened by our struggle for any old advantage
and the drone of business dealings.

It doesn't see joy and sorrow
as two different feelings.
It is with us
only in their union.
We can count on it
when we're not sure of anything
and curious about everything.

Of all material objects
it likes grandfather clocks
and mirrors, which work diligently
even when no one is looking.

It doesn't state where it comes from
or when it will vanish again,
but clearly it awaits such questions.

Evidently,
just as we need it,
it can also use us
for something.

-- WisLawa Szymborska
Translated by Joanna Trzeciak

love this video

Seabear, "I Sing I Swim"

eat your words!

Summer, the season for relaxing, resting and catching up on reading. I've been ordering copious amounts of library books for my two tropical vacations, and while doing so, reading lots of reviews, and this might be my favorite:

"But multitudinousness cannot make the spectacle of his morbidness any more acceptable. It cannot palliate the gross impropriety of which he is guilty, in publishing what is unfit for repetition; an impropriety doubled by the retention of this disgusting stuff in a new edition issued after many years, during which the author has had ample opportunity to free himself from his youthful crudities. Every one imbued with the "primal sanities" must be revolted by this offense, and protest against it. Fortunately, however, the chief damage done will be to the author himself, who thus dishonors his own physical nature; for imperfect though the race is, it still remains so much purer than the stained and distorted reflection of its animalism in Leaves of Grass, that the book cannot attain to any very wide influence." 

--1882 review of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass in The Atlantic

For more reviews of famous classics, click here.

"Let us commence"

I am thankful that there are people like Anne Lamott out in the world. I loved this:

"Let us commence"  by Anne Lamott

I am honored and surprised that you asked me to speak today.


This must be a magical day for you. I wouldn't know. I accidentally forgot to graduate from college. I meant to, 30 years ago, but things got away from me. I did graduate from high school, though -- do I get a partial credit for that? Although, unfortunately, my father had forgotten to pay the book bill, so at the graduation ceremony, when I opened the case to see my diploma, it was empty. Except for a ransom note that said, see Mrs. Foley, the bookkeeper, if you ever want to see your diploma alive again.

I went to Goucher College in Maryland for the best possible reasons -- to learn -- but then I dropped out at 19 for the best possible reasons -- to become a writer. Those of you who have read my work know that instead, I accidentally became a Kelly girl for a while. Then, In a dazzling career move, I got hired as a clerk typist in the Nuclear Quality Assurance Department at Bechtel, where I worked typing and sorting triplicate forms. I hate to complain, but it was not very stimulating work. But it paid the bills, so I could write my stories every night when I got home. I worked at Bechtel for six months -- but I had nothing to do with the current administration's shameless war profiteering. I just sorted triplicate forms. You've got to believe me.

It was a terrible job, at which I did a terrible job, but it paid $600 a month, which was enough to pay my rent and bills. This is the real fly in the ointment if you are crazy enough to want to be an artist -- you have to give up your dreams of swimming pools and fish forks, and take any old job. At 20, I got hired at a magazine as an assistant editor, and I think that was the last real job I've ever had.

I bet I'm beginning to make your parents really nervous -- here I am sort of bragging about being a dropout, and unemployable, and secretly making a pitch for you to follow your creative dreams, when what they want is for you to do well in your field, make them look good, and maybe also make a tiny fortune.

But that is not your problem. Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and precious life you have been issued. Whether you're going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over people and circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are.

At some point I finally started getting published, and experiencing a meager knock-kneed standing in the literary world, and I started to get almost everything that many of you graduates are hoping for -- except for the money.

I got a lot of things that society had promised would make me whole and fulfilled -- all the things that the culture tells you from preschool on will quiet the throbbing anxiety inside you -- stature, the respect of colleagues, maybe even a kind of low-grade fame. The culture says these things will save you, as long as you also manage to keep your weight down. But the culture lies.

Slowly, after dozens of rejection slips and failures and false starts and postponed dreams -- what Langston Hughes called dreams deferred -- I stepped onto the hallowed ground of being a published novelist, and then 15 years later, I even started to make real money.

I'd been wanting to be a successful author my whole life. But when I finally did it, I was like a greyhound catching the mechanical rabbit she'd been chasing all her life -- metal, wrapped up in cloth. It wasn't alive; it had no spirit. It was fake. Fake doesn't feed anything. Only spirit feeds spirit, in the same way only your own blood type can sustain you. It had nothing that could slake the lifelong thirst I had for a little immediacy, and connection.

So from the wise old pinnacle of my 49 years, I want to tell you that what you're looking for is already inside you. You've heard this before, but the holy thing inside you really is that which causes you to seek it. You can't buy it, lease it, rent it, date it or apply for it. The best job in the world can't give it to you. Neither can success, or fame, or financial security -- besides which, there ain't no such thing. J.D. Rockefeller was asked, "How much money is enough?" and he said, "Just a little bit more."

So it can be confusing -- most of your parents want you to do well, to be successful. They want you to be happy -- or at least happy-ish. And they want you to be nicer to them; just a little nicer -- is that so much to ask?

They want you to love, and be loved, and to find peace, and to laugh and find meaningful work. But they also -- some of them -- a few of them -- not yours -- yours are fine -- they also want you to chase the bunny for a while. To get ahead, sock some away, and then find a balance between the greyhound bunny-chase, and savoring your life.

But the thing is that you don't know if you're going to live long enough to slow down, relax, and have fun, and discover the truth of your spiritual identity. You may not be destined to live a long life; you may not have 60 more years to discover and claim your own deepest truth -- like Breaker Morant said, you have to live every day as if it's your last, because one of these days, you're bound to be right.

So I thought it might help if I just went ahead and told you what I think is the truth of your spiritual identity ...

Actually, I don't have a clue.
I do know you are not what you look like, or how much you weigh, or how you did in school, and whether you get to start a job next Monday or not. Spirit isn't what you do, it's ... well, again, I don't actually know. They probably taught this junior year at Goucher. But I know that you feel it best when you're not doing much -- when you're in nature, when you've very quiet, or, paradoxically, listening to music.

I know you can feel it and hear it in the music you love, in the bass line, in the harmonies, in the silence between notes; in Chopin and Eminem, Emmylou Harris, Bach, whoever. You can close your eyes and feel the divine spark, concentrated in you, like a little Dr. Seuss firefly. It flickers with aliveness and relief, like an American in a foreign country who suddenly hears someone speaking in English. In the Christian tradition, they say that the soul rejoices in hearing what it already knows. And so you pay attention when that Dr. Seuss creature inside you sits up and says, "Yo!"

We can see spirit made visible in people being kind to each other, especially when it's a really busy person, taking care of a needy annoying person. Or even if it's terribly important you, stopping to take care of pitiful, pathetic you. In fact, that's often when we see spirit most brightly.


It's magic to see spirit largely because it's so rare. Mostly you see the masks and the holograms that the culture presents as real. You see how you're doing in the world's eyes, or your family's, or -- worst of all -- yours, or in the eyes of people who are doing better than you -- much better than you -- or worse. But you are not your bank account, or your ambitiousness. You're not the cold clay lump with a big belly you leave behind when you die. You're not your collection of walking personality disorders. You are spirit, you are love, and, while it is increasingly hard to believe during this presidency, you are free. You're here to love, and be loved, freely. If you find out next week that you are terminally ill -- and we're all terminally ill on this bus -- all that will matter is memories of beauty, that people loved you, and you loved them, and that you tried to help the poor and innocent.

So how do we feed and nourish our spirit, and the spirit of others?
First, find a path, and a little light to see by. Every single spiritual tradition says the same three things: 1) Live in the now, as often as you can, a breath here, a moment there. 2) You reap exactly what you sow. 3) You must take care of the poor, or you are so doomed that we can't help you.

You don't have to go overseas. There are people right here who are poor in spirit; worried, depressed, dancing as fast as they can, whose kids are sick, or whose retirement savings are gone. There is great loneliness among us, life-threatening loneliness. People have given up on peace, on equality. They've even given up on the Democratic Party, which I haven't, not by a long shot. You do what you can, what good people have always done: You bring thirsty people water; you share your food, you try to help the homeless find shelter, you stand up for the underdog.

Anything that can help you get your sense of humor back feeds the spirit, too. In the Bill Murray army movie "Stripes," a very tense recruit announces during his platoon's introductions, "My name is Francis. No one calls me Francis. Anyone calls me Francis, I'll kill them. And I don't like to be touched -- anyone tries to touch me, I'll kill them." And the sergeant responds, "Oh, lighten up, Francis." So you may need to upgrade your friends. You need to find people who laugh gently at themselves, who remind you gently to lighten up.

Rest and laughter are the most spiritual and subversive acts of all. Laugh, rest, slow down. Some of you start jobs Monday; some of you desperately wish you did -- some of your parents are asthmatic with anxiety that you don't. They shared this with me before the ceremony began.

But again, this is not your problem. If your family is hell-bent on you making a name for yourself in the field of, say, molecular cell biology, then maybe when you're giving them a final tour of campus, you can show them to the admissions office. I doubt very seriously that they could even get into U.C. Berkeley -- I talked to a professor who said there is not a chance he could get in these days.

So I would recommend that you all just take a long deep breath, and stop. Just be where your butts are, and breathe. Take some time. You are graduating today. Refuse to cooperate with anyone who is trying to shame you into hopping right back up onto the rat exercise wheel.

Rest, but pay attention. Refuse to cooperate with anyone who is stealing your freedom, your personal and civil liberties, and then smirking about it. I'm not going to name names. Just send money to the ACLU whenever you can.

But slow down if you can. Better yet, lie down.

In my 20s I devised a school of relaxation that has unfortunately fallen out of favor in the ensuing years -- it was called Prone Yoga. You just lie around as much as possible. You could read, listen to music, you could space out, or sleep. But you had to be lying down. Maintaining the prone.

You've graduated. You have nothing left to prove, and besides, it's a fool's game. If you agree to play, you've already lost. It's Charlie Brown and Lucy, with the football. If you keep getting back on the field, they win. There are so many great things to do right now. Write. Sing. Rest. Eat cherries. Register voters. And -- oh my God -- I nearly forgot the most important thing: refuse to wear uncomfortable pants, even if they make you look really thin. Promise me you'll never wear pants that bind or tug or hurt, pants that have an opinion about how much you've just eaten. The pants may be lying! There is way too much lying and scolding going on politically right now without your pants getting in on the act, too.

So bless you. You've done an amazing thing. And you are loved; you are capable of lives of great joy and meaning. It's what you are made of. And it's what you're for. So take care of yourselves; take care of each other. Thank you.

Here is the full thingy too--Salon.com.

PIG and other cookbooks

I recently read an article which suggested some cook books--thought I would pass along these titles:

• The Simple Art of EatingWell Cookbook  Jessie Price & the EatingWell Test Kitchen
  I was unimpressed with this book.
• Pig: King of the Southern table, James Villas
  I LOVED this book! Embrace the Southerner within.
• Salted: A Manifesto on the World’s Most Essential Mineral, with Recipes by Mark Bitterman
  I have found this book utterly fascinating. And the pictures: AMAZING!
• Oaxaca al Gusto, Diana Kennedy
  I have only looked at the first few pages, but this book looks pretty impresssive!
  
  And the rest of these books I have on order from the library.
  Thank God for Inter-library Loan!
  
• Good to the Grain: Baking with whole-grain flours, Kim Boyce
• Secrets of the Sommeliers: how to think and drink like the world's top wine professionals, Jorday Mackay and Rajat Parr
• The Essential NY Times Cook Book: classic recipes for a new century, Amanda Hesser
• Meat: A Kitchen Education, James Peterson 
• Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food, Paul Greenberg

too much thinking

Sea Wolf, "The Garden That You Planted"

cravings

I have very specific cravings these days,  due I guess to the Vegan until 6pm diet. Almost every Tuesday (at work in the Kitchen) I do a baking project for our daily tea snack. My Tuesday baking projects are special to me because I am provided with some (rare) time to myself; no teaching moments, no explaining things, just time to clear my head. Yesterday I was craving that yeasty, rising dough smell; warm, soft goodness--I wanted bread sticks (not Breadstix). So, I set grabbed Carol Field's The Italian Baker, and set about making Grissini.

Ingredients: (Makes about 20 breadsticks)

3 1/2 cups bread flour, plus additional flour for the bread board
1 tablespoon malted syrup--I used maple syrup
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 3/4 teaspoons instant dry yeast
1 1/4 cups warm water
2 tablespoons olive oil
Additional olive oil

Here are my bastardized, simplified steps:
1. You can do this part by hand, I did in mixer with bread hook. Mix all ingredients.

2. Pat the kneaded dough out into a rough rectangle, making sure there's a little flour under the dough so it won't stick. Rub a little olive oil on top, cover tightly with plastic wrap. Leave for an hour-ish.

3. Don't punch down the dough. I used a dough cutter and cut hunks off and then kept slicing thinner and thinner strips until they were the size I wanted. I even twisted some. These looked great. (Field suggests cutting the dough into four rectangles, then cutting each rectangle into five strips, but I simply eyeballed the strips and they came out fine. Gently lift each strip, one at a time, and you'll find it's easy to stretch them out into long, thin sticks.

4. There's no need for further rising, but I let the bread sticks rise for another 15-20 minutes. Recipe calls for baking at 450F for about 20 minutes. My first batch burned, so I cooked my grissini at 400F for 8 mins--however, that is with an industrial oven--BE CAREFUL!

Regret: not wiping the dough with flavored oil and sesame seeds before cooking. I made up for that by making a Parmesan butter, which I heard was good. Also good with ranch or pizza sauce.

I definitely satisfied my craving with these bad boys and am DEFINITELY going to be making again! Sorry, no pictures.  :(

a May day remembered

The view of our gardens from the road

Renegade spinach, gathered and now going to seed

Broccoli, peppers and tomatoes--lots and lots

My cucumber netting!

The Farm's blueberries and raspberries

The view into the woods behind our gardens

A lovely blue skied May day

The last of the lilacs before the flowers died off

These are pics of my garden (area), which I took in May.

I need to post newer pics as things are getting sun and rain and HUGE!

maybe the middle's ok?

Sea Wolf, "Middle Distance Runner"

I like Sea Wolf. I stumble upon him occasionally, usually when I'm on Pandora, and always think, "yeah. I like him." Enjoy!

no speak Americano

Yolanda Be Cool & Dcup - We No Speak Americano (Official Video)

I came for the music, I stayed for the beards

Murder in the City, the Avett Brothers

This song is lovely. :)

the gateway drug

This article is great!

READ! "Imagining Ronald McDonald's Exit Interview," Yoni Brenner, NYTimes.

in all parts

Ray Lamongtagne (one of my favorites), was on VH1 Storytellers this week and I was able to catch it today. Aside from his music, I love that Ray Lamontagne is painfully shy, but when he speaks people listen because he is so sincere. My heart swells with happy. Watch here.

Today is my first full day off with no plans other than some tentative dinner plans. I was going to garden all day, but waking up to the pouring rain made me smile and know that now I can stay inside and read all day without feeling guilty!

Here is some kind of lovely:

"In the new garden, in all the parts"

In the new garden, in all the parts,
In cities now, modern, I wander,
Though the second or third result, or still further, primitive yet,
Days, places, indifferent--though various, the same,
Time, Paradise, the Mannahattan, the prairies, finding me unchanged,
Death indifferent--Is it that I lived long since? Was I buried very
long ago?
For all that, I may now be watching you here, this moment;
For the future, with determined will, I seek--the woman of the
future,
You, born years, centuries after me, I seek. 

-- Uncle Walt (Whitman)

got tingles

SO EXCITED for this. And a little sad that the movies will be over...

"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Part 2" Trailer 1

finding the kernels

A couple of weeks back at a dinner with some fellow farmers, after the subject of libraries came up, one of my coworkers made a snide comment about the lack of importance/need of librarians. I tried to act as if I didn't find the comment utterly insulting, because this particular guy often times say things to play the Devil's advocate/get a rise out of people, but I couldn't help but stew about what he said for a few days (as is my nature). When people say such things, a few thoughts pop into my head:

• have they ever been in a library before?
• But, I did so much damn research with freaked out/confused undergrad/grad students when I worked in my Graduate school's library! And those people needed me! (I firmly believe that that work might be what gets me into Heaven!)
• maybe people who say things like that are truly just ignorant

So, it was with much satisfaction that I stumbled upon this article today. Ms. Tourangeau summed up one of my points so succintly! Anyone can search away and find lots of information, but librarians are trained to pick through and find the good "kernels" (as one of my old professors used to call great ideas/information).   Anyway, in the event that you don't read the whole article, you must at least read this:

“ 'Twenty years ago,' she says, 'we had challenges helping kids find enough information. Now we have the opposite problem. There’s plenty of information out there. Now it’s a matter of training students to think critically about what they find. Because 90 percent of what they find on the Internet is garbage.' ” 
-- Pat. St. Tourangeau, Librarian, Boise, ID

Some other interesting library articles:

• EBSCO meet H.W. Wilson. H.W. Wilson this is EBSCO
• Role of the Springfield Library post tornado

Photo found here.

sad, but lovely

"The Garden of Proserpine" 

Here, where the world is quiet;
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
  In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing
For harvest-time and mowing,
  A sleepy world of streams.

I am tired of tears and laughter,
  And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
  For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
  And everything but sleep.

Here life has death for neighbor,
  And far from eye or ear
Wan waves and wet winds labor,
  Weak ships and spirits steer;
They drive adrift, and whither
They wot not who make thither;
But no such winds blow hither,
  And no such things grow here.

No growth of moor or coppice,
  No heather-flower or vine,
But bloomless buds of poppies,
  Green grapes of Proserpine,
Pale beds of blowing rushes,
Where no leaf blooms or blushes
Save this whereout she crushes
  For dead men deadly wine.

Pale, without name or number,
  In fruitless fields of corn,
They bow themselves and slumber
  All night till light is born;
And like a soul belated,
In hell and heaven unmated,
By cloud and mist abated
  Comes out of darkness morn.

Though one were strong as seven,
  He too with death shall dwell,
Nor wake with wings in heaven,
  Nor weep for pains in hell;
Though one were fair as roses,
His beauty clouds and closes;
And well though love reposes,
  In the end it is not well.

Pale, beyond porch and portal,
  Crowned with calm leaves she stands
Who gathers all things mortal
  With cold immortal hands;
Her languid lips are sweeter
Than love's who fears to greet her,
To men that mix and meet her
  From many times and lands.

She waits for each and other,
  She waits for all men born;
Forgets the earth her mother,
  The life of fruits and corn;
And spring and seed and swallow
Take wing for her and follow
Where summer song rings hollow
  And flowers are put to scorn.

There go the loves that wither,
  The old loves with wearier wings;
And all dead years draw thither,
  And all disastrous things;
Dead dreams of days forsaken,
Blind buds that snows have shaken,
Wild leaves that winds have taken,
  Red strays of ruined springs.

We are not sure of sorrow;
  And joy was never sure;
To-day will die to-morrow;
  Time stoops to no man's lure;
And love, grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
  Weeps that no loves endure.

From too much love of living,
  From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
  Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
  Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,
  Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
  Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
  In an eternal night.

-- Algernon Charles Swinburne

my life, like my thoughts

...is all over the place right now. Wanted to post a quick blog to say:

I am playing on a co-ed softball team again this summer. I like the people I am playing with, definitely a lot nicer and less white-trashy than the team I played on last year. Third game tonight, we are 1-1 so far. I am loving being out in the sun and running around.

Garden is GROWING. We are getting more sun and heat and humidity starting tonight, so the tomatoes are taking off. Still need to stake tomatoes, need to weed CONSTANTLY. Spent over an hour weeding TWO ROWS of flowers and around some sunflowers. Cucumbers, squash and pumpkins have all popped up, seemingly overnight. They are little green rabbit ears, flopped out on their mounds. I love this stage. It's easy to love, all I have to do is watch the plants grow. There is no endless picking and pickling or preserving of things yet. I complain, but I LOVE it. I do. So happy. Took some pics of the beginning of the plants, etc., will post asap.

Still working tons at the library through the end of this month, then my hours peter out some until the fall, since the library has abbreviated summer hours. That's fine with me. I've loved the extra money and experience, but am feeling ready for a break and more time spent with my monster garden. :)

Leave for Jamaica (my brother A3's wedding!) in 3 weeks from today, but who's counting!? And in less than 2 months my good friend (and former roomie) College Kim is getting married. Can't believe how fast these past few weeks have flown by spent doing last minute shopping, getting dresses hemmed, picking up bridesmaids' dress, etc. (BTW--go see the movie Bridesmaids, so funny!)

My brother A2 is going to be in Newport for work for the next couple of weeks, so I am going to try and see him. It's funny, we haven't seen each other in over 2 years (he lives in CA) and now I am going to see him this month, then next month at A3's wedding. When it rains it pours, I guess.

Settled into my cabin, but still need to do some more cleaning. I AM NEVER HOME! And last night I realized that I have mice in my cabin again. Those bastards were doing a conga line in the wall behind the head of my bed, RIGHT AS I WAS FALLING ASLEEP. This made me only remotely angry, since then I couldn't fall back asleep for a while. Such is life. And life is good. But it's busy these days. But I am glad for the busyness, it's bringing very exciting things my way faster and faster!

homesick-edness, part of life

Have moved out of my obsession with Mumford & Sons and fallen back in with Ray Lamontagne. Every thing that Ray sings sounds really good these days...or maybe it's just because he is playing at my alma mater tomorrow and I should be there. Maybe it's because I am homesick and Ray's music is definitely something I associate back home with...hmm..

come on skinny love

Ingrid Michaelson covering Bon Iver, "Skinny Love"

Ah, love this song.

The Power of Words

I stole this from bestie Mummy Dearest. It is a gem.

vegan until 6

Before I get started on this blog about dieting, let me say a few things. I hate the word "diet." I hate when I talk about this "new way of eating," and people make this scornful "diets never work," face. And though I may agree with them, it still pisses me off. Especially if they're those naturally skinny types. I want to scream, "well, EXCUSE me for eating my emotions since 1991! And besides that I am fighting against some chubby genes!"

The whole reason I decided to try Mark Bittman's, "Vegan before dinnertime,"--or "Vegan until 6," as I call it--is 1. for the most part I respect Mark Bittman and 2. my friend Sierra did this and found it worked for her.  I am not a dieter by nature. I know most fad diets either don't work because they set up unrealistic expectations or shouldn't be done because they aren't good for your body. The difference with Bittman's is that it's a damn way of life, which  forces you to be really mindful about what you are eating and encourages you to eat things which are great for you, while also, and most importantly, allowing you to still eat the foods you crave all day long. Bittman's philosophy is simple, "My arrangement with myself is that from the time I wake up until dinner I eat only fruits, vegetables, whole grains and legumes. I don’t even eat white bread during the day. And then starting at dinner, I do. I have one meal a day when I do pretty much what I want, which is normally quite indulgent."

Eating vegan is easy at the Farm; since we have some vegans in our community, the Kitchen has to pay particular attention to making sure their dietary needs are met. The biggest challenge for me when I work at the library all day is making good choices when I've forgotten my lunch. No restaurants around here do vegan food! This new way of eating has led me to think about how frustrating it must be for vegans.


A tool which has been helpful to me is: myfitnesspal.com (a site Mummy Dearest has been urging me to join for a while now), where on a daily basis I track:

• my caloric intake
• protein consumed
• fats consumed
• carbs consumed
• calories burned in exercise
• weight

I don't get all nutso about the numbers if I go over, etc., it's just a nice way for me to stay focused.

All of this has come out of two desires: 1. I am going to two weddings this summer and want to look as close to stunning as is possible and 2. I want to be more mindful about eating. It's that simple. I am not sure how long I will continue this. Every day is a challenge. Some days are better than others. But, I am learning...and I guess...that's all we can hope for in this crazy world. 

my day off and this is how I spent it

Bluntcard.com how I enjoy you so!

taking some comfort there

"The Boxer," Simon & Garfunkel

I love this song. I loved it as a child and I love it even more now as an adult. Simon & Garfunkel, you are so many good things wrapped up into music!

guess it's time for library stuff

Realized lately that aside from not posting much lately, I haven't posted a blog about library stuff in FOREVER! A handful of interesting sites/cool articles (the first two via the American Libraries Direct monthly email):

We love Western Mass Libraries

One Michigan libraries attempts at Summer Reading '11! Woot woot Michigan!

James Patterson's awesome kids and reading and books and more site Readkiddoread