Birthdays

It's that time of year again--my birthday & Christmas. December has always been one of my favorite months for those reasons alone. Also I like the darkening skies, the moody weather, the turning inward...and decorations! We got them up early this year to make up for last year when we were too tired to put anything out at all.

So stockings were hung & all that. We have a little fake tree blinking by the front door that I bought with my mom at a craft fair in Baltimore six years ago. It's not that tacky, all things considered. But I was super excited when my friend Heats found the possibilitree online last week and sent me the link. I think I'll order the six foot suspended next year. I want to put up ornaments like everyone else, but with an arborist for a partner, there is no way we'll be cutting anything living down for the holidays...it is kind of an odd ritual if you think about it. But almost all of our holiday rituals are when it comes right down to it.

Well it was super fun. And I made gingerbread from the Tartine cookbook, which rocks. And then something simple and light for supper. This is great whenever you're in a pinch: Tortellini soup. In this case, I subbed butternut squash ravioli and chicken broth. The last time I made it, it was my attempt to cook the soup Kelly described ordering for lunch at work one day. It has a beef stock, cheese tortellini, and a few sauteed onions and chopped dino kale. I put a touch of cayenne pepper in just to add some spice. It was made in no time and tasted like it took a lot more work.

Then I mulled some cider. Okay, this is the winter non-alcoholic drink in my book. I love when its been quietly simmering on the stovetop for hours smelling up the house and getting concentrated.

Last Thursday was my 35th birthday. I was originally inspired to come up with 35 things for which I was grateful in honor of the event. But about ten things into my list, even I was bored and I felt like--who is going to be interested in reading this?

So, instead I offer this: gratitude for fleeting moments, like the way the sun looked falling between two apartment buildings and lighting up the young maple tree in the panhandle as I drove to work last Tuesday morning. It was so beautiful I regretted driving and wished I were on my bicycle. In my daze, I nearly crashed into the car in front of me.

And gratitude for artistic inspiration, which keeps renewing itself in my chest and fills me with joy.

My birthday was amazing. So much love from so many people from different times and places in my life. Being remembered and loved and appreciated to such an extent I actually teared up a couple times. Spoiled with beautiful little things by the people I love.

I spent time with friends, soaked and steamed at Kabuki Hot Springs, got a massage, drank wine, ate Vietnamese food, and saw Cirque du Soleil's newest show "Ovo." My cake was a princess cake specially ordered for the occassion. It was filled with whip cream and quite delicious, although Kelly and I both agreed the white chocolate fondant frosting was a tad sweet.

I had a great date with my girl. Even managed to snap a picture of us on our way to dinner. Kelly says the bubble above this picture should read, "Ummm...maybe we should have taken Clay..."

My girl bought me this great North Face puff jacket for my birthday and then borrowed it to wear out that night...that's what I love about her.

We had tuna tartare, imperial rolls, scallops, wine & champagne, all of which were amazing, and then took a long walk on the Embarcadero to the Cirque du Soleil. All in all, it was a perfectly wonderful 35th birthday.

Bridges

I love this picture my friend Paul snapped of me two weekends ago--caught mid laugh, my head tossed back. I would like to carry some of this lightness and joy into all aspects of my life, despite whatever headaches, irritations, fatigue, and obstacles each day brings.

I've been noticing beauty everywhere lately, tuning in to the particular vibrancy and weight of the city, the hum and heft of it, knowing how all too soon it will be a memory of a chapter in my life--my days in the big city.

Last weekend I drove to Berkeley in the early morning hours. The roads were wet, the air heavy with moisture. Few cars were on the road. The light at 6:30 am is like no other; coupled with the mist, it made for a moody, thoughtful drive. Typically, I like nothing better than to listen to public radio while I drive. But that morning, I flipped the radio off and tuned into my own thoughts, or rather feelings. I noticed, crossing the bridge, the way my chest lifted and opened.

Bridges are beautiful, of course. Growing up in a small town, the only bridge I was exposed to was a tiny walking bridge and parallel one-lane bridge that crossed the Androscoggin River from Brunswick to Topsham.

The bridges I've become intimate with here--the Golden Gate and the Bay Bridge--are such mammoth structures. Only weeks before the Bay Bridge made the news because a section of it that had recently been repaired came loose and crashed onto the freeway below. Amazingly, given the hour and the heaviness of commute traffic, no one was injured.

This accident didn't cause me to fear crossing the bridge last weekend, and as I reflected on that, I thought about how scared I was of these big bridges when I first moved to San Francisco seven years ago. The only context I had for the Bay Bridge was a staticky image in my head of its collapse during the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989.

I began to reflect on all the ways the city scared me when I first arrived, how big and daunting and dirty and crowded it felt. How small and vulnerable and fearful I was. I was too intimidated to ride my bike anywhere and for the life of me couldn't remember the difference between inbound and outbound MUNI trains. This meant a lot of just getting on a train and praying, then getting off at the next stop and reversing direction. I was so in awe of all the people with their edgy hair and clothes and attitudes, and I was broke, or as close to broke as I've ever been, so I spent a lot of my free time just walking around looking, because looking is free.

All these years later, I marvel at how calmly I navigate this city, by bus, car, or bike. How much I feel a part of it, like I belong. And as I prepare mentally to leave it in the near future, how sweet and privately mine each moment, each view becomes. I breathe it all the way in, deep breaths, down to my toes, and hold it, and then exhale. I let each bite rest a bit longer on my tongue, allowing the flavors to sink in.

Crossing the bridge in the early morning and then returning mid-afternoon, I couldn't help but consider the bridge in its most metaphorical sense--apart from the way this particular bridge makes me feel and the breathtaking view it affords, the heavy steel beams and supports, the rolling pale blue hills on one side and boxy, shiny office buildings crowding the other.

Bridges are spaces between destinations, stretches of road hovering impossibly high above the ocean. They run in two directions and from a certain standpoint there is no before and after, because while some of us are traveling home, others are just setting out.

I landed here and found a temporary refuge from pain and sorrow, as if the city were some enormous bird that wrapped me in its wings and sheltered me. Every journey has a beginning, a middle and an end, and so it is with my own here in the city. As my wise friend Paul said years ago in describing a relationship of mine that had ended, "you had a share of time together." I think of that phrase often and the posture of gratitude it embodies.

I had a share of time in San Francisco, and I will miss it when I'm gone.

In the Kitchen

Last night I dragged my tired little self into the kitchen and spent a few hours cooking and listening to This American Life. This is one of my favorite rituals and usually very rejuvenating, but I just plain didn't feel like it when I started out. The past few weeks I've woken up with a dry sore throat and felt tired all day. Each time I catch a sideways glimpse of myself I am startled to note the fatigue under my eyes. The change of seasons--as minimal as it is here in San Francisco--with its colder night air and lack of sunlight are really affecting my energy level this year.

And I've been getting up at 5:30 am to study for my last PRAXIS exam scheduled to be administered this Saturday in Berkeley at the ungodly hour of 7:30 am. It is very hard to focus oneself to study case histories and theories of education and child growth and development when there is a brand new season of Mad Men queued up in my Netflix account and one disk watching patiently beside my bed.

But I'm glad I pushed through my fatigue and general irritability last night because the ritual itself was stress-relieving. I made white bean and vegetable soup and a big casserole of mac and cheese--from the scratch the way my mom always made it with the roux and panko breadcrumbs. (She didn't use panko--that's my special gourmet touch.) I couldn't find the grater, not that I looked that hard, so I decided to cut all the cheese up by hand. I used a variety of different kinds of cheese--sliced munester, sliced cheddar, goat milk with truffles, and stilton with chives. I prepped it and put it in a bowl while the roux was thickening and then found myself having to pull apart a thousand miniscule pieces of cheese--a maddenly task indeed--but I slowed myself down and thought of it as a Zen task. Here I am pulling apart the tiny pieces of cheese. That is all I am doing, just separating cheese and adding it to my roux. I imagined myself sweeping the floor of the zendo, a holy task. No rushing. Nowhere to go.

This attitude toward mundane tasks, such as unknotting the strings of the curtains in our bedroom which are always a mess, helps to shift my mental state. My breath slows and my mind quiets. Soon I am noticing the beauty of a stalk of chard, observing its colors, noting the healthy green glow of its leaves.

So much has happened since my last entry. I kept meaning to sit down and capture some of it while it was still fresh in my head. An overview will have to suffice.

seeing my good friend Angela again at Esalen

and a week later in San Francisco

Esalen was everything I hoped for--a long, winding drive along Route One to Big Sur with my friend Paul. Lunch at Big Sur Bakery outside on a gravel patio. Wandering through the Esalen gardens. Hot tubbing under the stars. Drinking and eating and laughing with friends I've gotten to know by returning to the same retreat year after year. Sunlight warming my skin. And an excellent workshop on Saturday morning with author and wise woman Theresa Williams, who told us in no uncertain terms, "run towards shame." This in relation to writing about adolescence.

I had some breakthroughs in that workshop and uncovered some great moments to develop into stories. Theresa's workshop that morning was part writing practice and exercises and part sitting at the feet of a woman who has been there, walked through those burning fires and harvested the soil afterward. I am thinking of those types of seeds that lie underground dormant until the heat of a wildfire awakens their potential.

Returning from Esalen, I was called up for jury duty. That Wednesday I trooped down to the criminal courthouse south of Market and waited in line with an astonishing cross section of San Franciscans. As we proceeded slowly forward to be screened at security and assigned our courtrooms, I found myself behind a young woman in full black burka. Only her eyes showed through a narrow slit. A short distance away a young Black man cut in front of an older Black man to join his friends and was immediately lectured for his lack of courtesy to his fellow breatheren. A petite Hispanic woman held out her letter for my inspection and asked me in faltering English if she was in the right place. "I had to take the day off from work," she explained, "I run my own day care."

The case I was assigned to was a four day trial for possession and attempt to sell marijuana, and man did our judge have a difficult time assembling a jury of San Franciscans who didn't have their own personal beliefs which prevented them from being inpartial. It was a fascinating day for me, quite a surprise from what I had anticipated. I learned the differences between criminal and civil proceedings, observed the process by which a jury is picked, and was forced to consider my own beliefs in light of the possibility I might be picked. (I wasn't.)

The funniest moment occurred when an elderly Spanish-speaking woman announced to the judge during a question and answer period that, "all drugs are legal where I live...marijuana, heroin, cocaine..." "Where do you live?" asked the judge, lowering her glasses and peering across the rows of chairs. "At the corner of 16th and Mission."

At that, the courtroom exploded in laughter.

White bean & vegetable soup. No recipe here really. I just used up everything I could find in our refrigerator. Kelly and I have had some rather serious discussions about finances lately and I am inspired to try and save money around food. This is easier for me, in theory, than trying to refrain from clicking on Etsy twice a day and scrolling about adding things to my favorites list.

For this soup:

Soak a cup or two of white beans overnight. Rinse beans and add four cups of chicken stock or water with a pinch of salt and bring to a boil. Simmer until tender, approximately an hour and a half. Finely chop a medium sized onion and saute until translucent in olive oil. Add several chopped cloves of garlic--I like at least five. Add two minced carrots to the beans while they are cooking so the carrots dissolve. Add a cup of tomato sauce or a can of paste and a cup of water to the beans. After all of this has simmered for an hour, add two diced and peeled potatoes. Then add a head of dino kale, rinsed, and chopped.

Really, you can add any vegetables you want to the soup--celery, chard, peppers...

I like to top this soup, which tastes like minestrone, with some grated parmesan.

Homemade mac and cheese. The secret is the roux, which I make by melting two tablespoons of butter and adding two tablespoons of flour. Once this is dissolved, add a cup of milk and simmer until thickened. Add two cups grated cheese of any kind to the roux. I think its fun to mix it up by using something traditional, such as cheddar, with a surprise, like goat milk cheese or swiss. I don't put in nutmeg, although the Joy of Cooking calls for that ingredient, because I just don't care for the flavor.

Instead I dust my finished product with cayenne pepper and a pinch of parsley or other dried herbs. You can find panko breadcrumbs, which are a Japanese type of breadcrumb, in the speciality aisle at Wholefoods. I find them vastly superior to any other type.

I am eager to return to my art and looking forward to some time for that this weekend. With Thanksgiving around the corner, I am inspired to try making my own pie crust and baking my first ever lemon meringue pie.

Will let you know how that turns out.

New Jewelery & Hiking

I just had to share this picture I took of myself modeling my new necklace (the larger of the two I am wearing) handmade by my talented friend Stephanie Duley. Her work has terrific weight and texture. I love the hammered pieces and patinas she uses, as well as the way she varies the chains and clasps. She doesn't have her stuff available online yet, but I am working on it folks.

Kelly and I are house sitting in Mill Valley a lot these days. On Sunday we walked out the back door and down the road right into the woods where you can pick up any number of different trails. This was my first official hike since my foot surgery last April, and let me tell you--I soaked up every nuance, smell and color I could like a girl waking up from a coma. The smell of fall is here in its own unique way. No hints of ice or snow in the air. It is dry and dusty. The sun was hot, like Maine in mid August, and I had to keep reminding myself that November is just around the corner.

The light falling through the trees, the oaky, coconut smell of decaying leaves, the wind lifting and rattling leaves. All of it blew through me and emptied me out. I moved my body along the trail slowly, marveling, once we reached the wide old railroad sections, at the road bikers and their snazzy, ultra-tight Lycra. One couple shot past us with "Go Vegan" printed across their buttocks, which made me laugh and turn to Kelly and declare that such moments really locate me in Northern California.

Peeling bark on a Madrone. There were many Madrones whose bark had worn away entirely. You can run your hand along their spine and it feels like petting a wild animal, warm, soft, alive.

Kelly and I vowed to try to get out every Sunday for the next four months and go hiking. It was too long of a hiatus for me. Not just because of the foot surgery. Before that it was graduate school for two and a half years, and training for the AIDS Ride, and working as a TA, and before that it was taking writing classes in Bernal or Spanish classes at the Jewish Community Center. And before that it was working in Berkeley on the weekends. My how I fill my days with to-dos and activity.

Last night I lay in a reclining chair on the deck in Mill Valley sipping on a glass of white wine and let my mind empty out. It was worrying, knitting a complex web of fears and urgency and irritations and concerns. I wrapped a soft cashmere blanket from the couch around my shoulders and watched the pink fade into light blue and the tree branches grow black against the night sky. The wind kept picking up and then dying down. An airplane crossed the deepest patch of pink and its white plume slowly feathered out behind. A few hawks circled and then disappeared, and then some smaller birds dove about. The crickets began to hum or chirp or whatever it is they do. Vibrate the air. I could feel myself slowly relax. My heartbeat slowed and I let everything go for a while. It's funny how moments can be so long if you let them.

My girl kept my knees intact on our hike by carving me multiple walking sticks whenever we found ourselves in the woods on our hike headed downhill.

No, I didn't cut my hair. It's just tucked up in little knots under my hat. Actually, it's getting quite long these days. I haven't grown my hair out since high school. I'd try to, and then something would happen, some trigger, and I'd feel anxious or in need of change, and the next thing you know I'd be grabbing a pair of kitchen scissors and going to town on my hair. When Kelly and I first started dating, she would sometimes discover two or three different hair cuts had taken place within a the space of a week. Don't even get me started on color...

A sign of fall. I wanted to show everyone that we do have some deciduous trees and, in this case, vines, in the Bay Area. Nothing like the East Coast fireworks of color, but lovely nonetheless.

This weekend I return to Esalen for my fifth SUN magazine retreat, accompanied by my friend Blaney. I look forward to lounging in the hot springs overlooking the Pacific, filling myself up with healthy food prepared by someone other than myself, being inspired, hopefully doing some writing, seeing some familiar and much loved friends, and driving along the winding Route One cliffs.

BLTs for Breakfast

This sandwich rocked in so many ways I hardly know where to start. Fresh sourdough seeded bread from Arizmendi, gobs of canola mayo, black rubbed bacon from Wholefoods that cooked up just right, perfectly ripe Early Girl tomatoes from last weekend's farmers market--bought from the cutest sister team at Fifth Crow Farm, crisp romaine lettuce. Yes, I ate it for breakfast, and let me tell you it was divine.

I also came across these lovely deep orange edible pumpkins at Fifth Crow Farm. I love arrangements that are festive and celebratory, but can then be eaten. Nothing worse than rotten pumpkins or dried Christmas trees on curbs. I want beautiful things in my home that have more than one purpose. These squashes will become soup or sweet bread or pie after I am done admiring them.

Close up of these wonderful lanterns. I am smitten with them every year.

A work in progress at my newly organized desk. My friend Blaney gave us a small red metal file cabinet that just fit under the side of my desk. I now have all my paint, chopped up books, scrap paper, etc. neatly categorized and my desk is a sea of room. It is very exciting and makes me want to bring this level of organization to every aspect of our home/ my life.

The words on this new piece in progress are part of a longer quote by Harriet Beecher Stowe, only I didn't care for her message in its entirety, which felt quite dark and negative. So I co-opted it. I think that's the terminology. So now it says:

"God sends ten thousand truths

which come about us like birds

they sit a while upon the roof and sing

and then they fly away"

And here is a close up of another new piece featuring a tiny sailboat and a quote by Emerson: "when it is dark enough you can see the stars."

And the same piece shown in its entirety.

A new large piece with a snippet from a quote by Gilda Radner: "some poems don't rhyme; some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle or end." I am still toying with this piece. Since photographing it, I have added a layer of charcoal and paint shadowing, which gives it a bit more depth. I also painted the sides a dark gray (they were rose).

This piece came to me while I was practicing yoga a few weeks back. I was riddled with doubts and fears about the future, and then the clouds of my mind seemed to part and I saw this word and knew that I had to create it in fiery reds and hang it some where I would see it on a regular basis as I transition through the coming six months.

Bird on a teacup represents my efforts to begin creating textured items upon which my birds can perch. I love teacups and this was painted to look like my favorite teacup made in Portugal from which I drink my tea each afternoon.

Kind of a dark photograph, almost yellowish. The light in my flat is not great for taking pictures. This piece is small and was inspired by my recent obsession with the gay marriage debate taking place in Maine right now. My home state. Please, please let the forces of change and inclusion win out!

I am looking forward to my trip to Esalen to attend the SUN writing retreat at the end of this month, as well as turning thirty five in December. Five years ago, a friend made me a persimmon cheesecake for my birthday and it was so delicious, I decided to try making one for myself this year. I found a recipe on the internet. Now I just need to purchase a springform pan. Will keep you posted on how it turns out. I haven't made a cheesecake since I was nineteen and a vegan vegetarian. I made a blueberry tofu cheesecake. It was...interesting, to say the least.

I woke from a dream yesterday morning with a snippet of a poem as the basis for a new piece: "all night I floated in the streets of your arms."

I love early morning inspiration.

Autumn in San Francisco

Life is a Shipwreck, available on Etsy later this week

It's officially starting to feel like Autumn in San Francisco, so different from Fall in New England. The days are still quite warm and sunny here, but the evenings are chilly. Tonight it may even reach the high 40s. Leaves aren't really changing the way they do on the east coast, no brilliant streaks of red and deepening oranges. It's more a gradual yellow to browning of the ones that are dying, slowly fluttering to rest on the sidewalk.

I felt oddly tired this weekend. For the first time in many months, I gave myself permission to lay about on my bed in the late afternoon sunshine--warmer through my windows than outside--and read for hours. I am reading a pretty good novel right now about sisters (I See You Everywhere by Julia Glass), and even though the sisters in the book have a much more antagonistic relationship than I do with my two younger sisters, it is still a delicious escape. I like how each chapter rotates the point of view. Next on my reading list is Lorrie Moore's newest novel A Gate at the Stairs. I was lucky to score an autographed hardcover copy at my local independent bookstore, not something I usually care two hoots about, but she is definitely one of my most favorite writers of all time. I am anticipating long, uninterrupted hours with it.

A friend was in town visiting me at the tail end of the week. I took a half day on Friday and we drove out to Drake's Cove Beach at Point Reyes. My goal was to gather small abstract pieces of driftwood to replicate a mirror another friend created, but the light on the water and shore worked its own brand of magic on my soul. So infinitely soothing to stand in the middle of something as massive and dramatic at the cliffs along the Pacific coast.


I love the ripples on the sand, the irridescent reflected sky and shimmering bands of water.

I'm not feeling particularly wordy today. Wore myself out welcoming my girl back from Maine, where she spent the last eleven days. Yesterday I made squash pie and pumpkin bread and curried tofu with greens for dinner. The recipe for the curried tofu comes from my Cafe Chimes cookbook, put out by my dear friend Kathy Etter shortly before she passed away in 1997. Taking it down off the shelf and thumbing through the recipes returns me to nineteen years old, living in an unfinished farmhouse, making fimo picture frames and drawing flowers with puff paints on t-shirts, chopping frozen pumpkins for the cows my boyfriend and I cared for in exchange for rent. So bittersweet in memory, it was actually a very uncertain time in my life. I will post the recipe for curried tofu next time. It is quite delicious and makes a great wrap sandwich served cold with chopped veggies and tahini dill salad dressing. The secret is freezing and then thawing the tofu before you cook it to make it chewy, like a vegetarian chicken. I think I am heading in the direction of more vegetarian cooking in the coming year. I miss that part of my old self.

I leave you with this lovely image of cows wandering home in Point Reyes. Quite the little dust storm they were kicking up as they trotted along the fence.

A Rant & Dal Shorba

view from my kitchen window

A quiet, solitary weekend. Kelly is on the East Coast. It is sunny & warm out. We seem to be having a heat wave here in SF. Earlier in the week I debated how I would spend the weekend. Ideas included going to the farmers' market at the Ferry Building for fish tacos, catching the preview of Whip It--Drew Barrymore's new film about an all-girls roller derby, and going hiking out at Point Reyes. Instead, I decided to be still and stay in. I was feeling the need for rest, self-reflection & art. I needed to cook and get grounded. I needed to practice yoga and work some of my kinks out. And my little studio was calling to me, as well as my Etsy shop, which is in sorry need of updating. I am gearing up to have an art sale and believe it or not, that requires a lot of work. Particularly the difficult work of pricing & photographing everything, figuring out the absolutely lowest I can go so folks can afford to buy something--and will in this difficult financial period we are going through--without underselling myself.

The violets in the mountains, available on Etsy

Last night I finished Harry Potter's The Prisoner of Azrakan (yes, I confess, I love Harry Potter movies--they're just so sweet and even when they're scary, they're not grotesquely violent), and tried to fall asleep around 11:30ish, but it was a fitful night. At five in the morning I finally got up and took a melatonin. I had wanted to get an early start today--so much to do!--but I knew I needed to sleep in, and I did so--until almost 10.

Love is Always Revolutionary, available on Etsy

While I was tossing and turning, here are a few of the things I was chewing on. Last night while I was making an enormous tureen of Dal Shorba (recipe below), I listened to two podcasts of This American Life. One of them had a segment about a recent House subcomittee hearing on the practice of rescission in the health insurance industry. It's this practice where when you are diagnosed with a serious illness, they go combing through your history, particularly your initial application for insurance, in order to determine reasons for cancelling your policy.

Perhaps You Thought She Was A Butterfly, private collection

The chief example was this woman who came to testify at the hearings. She was a Registered Nurse who had been diagnosed with breast cancer and required an immediate double mastectomy. The day before her surgery, her insurance company called to tell her they were denying her claim because they had found an incident of dermatitis in her prior history. Dermatitis sparked some idea in their beleaguered brains that this woman had a history of cancer. (She was being treated for acne--not skin cancer.) Her dermatologist called up her insurance company and begged them not to deny services, but they did anyway and it was months before this woman could get her procedure.

This happened to a woman I worked for here in San Francisco a few years ago. She had changed health insurance plans in August and a week or two later, she went to see her primary for a routine physical. Lo and behold, breast cancer. She then spent the next year fighting her new insurance company, who found the timing suspicious and refused to pay for any of the medications or treatments she required.

Can you imagine being told that there are malignant cells growing rapidly in your body, threatening your life, that you need to get your breasts removed, and then having your insurance company decide arbitrarily to deny or postpone your services because they think you might have lied about your prior history? It both infuriates and terrifies me.

So, this anger leads me to other injustices in our society. Like the fact that Kelly and I still cannot get legally married. Religious groups claim autonomy over the word "marriage," and frankly, I could care less about their precious word. In our world, "marriage" is tied to A LOT of financial securities that are denied to me as a gay person. For example, Kelly and I had to complete six different versions of our taxes this year because although the state of California recognizes us as a couple under domestic partnership laws, the federal government still stubbornly sees us both as "single." We lost over three thousand dollars in tax refunds because we aren't considered married.

Here's another financial denial. If anything happens to me, Kelly cannot have access to my Social Security unless I were to adopt her. Here's another one. If we leave the state of California we cannot get health insurance coverage that married couples have access to through their employers, because we are not married.

There are so many beautiful, wonderful things about living in the United States. I've traveled to other countries and seen this first hand. But there are blatant injustices here and inequities that undermine the concept of democracy to such an extent that it seems a joke to me sometimes. The time has come. I want to see real change in my life time. I'm tired of accepting second-class status.

Okay, that was a rant. It's rare for me to get so angry, but the constant public radio reporting about the health care bill and debates and lobbyist and whatnot has been both stimulating and frustrating.

On a separate note, I am also practicing standing up in small ways. At work there is an expert who called me "sweetie" four times last week on the phone. It was so shocking to me that it rendered me speechless. This is something I come up against in my life over and over. Something happens, some interaction with a person that I am not prepared for, and instead of responding to it the way I imagine myself doing after the fact, I draw a complete blank. I get caught in that place between my big mouth and how women are raised consciously and unconsciously to make others comfortable at our own expense.

Yesterday over breakfast I was thinking about this and I decided I need to say something next week when he calls back. I practiced it out loud, "Please don't call me sweetie," keeping it short and simple, but firm. I mean, seriously, would he ever call a guy--either in my position or an attorney--"sweetie"? No f___in' way. But when I think of actually saying it out loud, I feel a mild panic. Hurt someones feelings? Making someone uncomfortable? I cringe. I swear, this is why I suffered from an eating disorder for so many years. Stuffing my feelings inside, pushing them down where they couldn't be seen by anyone. It was lucky I didn't give myself an ulcer.

I'm going to be thirty-five on December 3rd. I am edging toward that phrase "mid-thirties." The good people of Maine will be casting their votes in November whether to revoke the rights of gay men and women to marry their partners. I am torn between seeing this as a wonderful moment in our revolution and being horrified at the very idea that ignorance and prejudice and fear might still win out. There is a great Irish video advertisement my friend Cary forwarded to me recently in which a guy goes around asking every stranger he meets if he can marry his girlfriend. The idea being, of course, that this is what is happening in the gay marriage debate. We are having to ask random strangers for a right we should already have conferred upon us. It's a little bit sickening, but I'll just have to wait and see what happens then.

Back to the art. Thanks for listening. Hope you enjoyed the new pieces sprinkled throughout. I will have many of them listed in my Etsy shop later today.

Below are two pieces I did as a gift for my friend Marybeth's twins.

Dal Shorba
Wash and cook up three cups of yellow lentils in equal parts water and chicken broth. (I just keeping adding liquid as the lentils absorb it.) In a separate pot, saute an onion (minced) and at least five or six cloves of garlic (also minced) in olive oil. Add to the lentils. Then saute two jalapenos and roughly four tablespoons of ginger (all of this minced too) in olive oil and add that to the lentils. Add some chopped tomato (a whole ripe one) or do what I do--add a cup of Raos Arrabiatta pasta sauce (this is my not-so-secret ingredient for almost all soups). Finally, clean and chop up an entire bunch of cilantro and add that to the soup. Let it cool and puree about half to two/thirds of the soup.
Viola! Yummy, healthy soup. Perfect with some fresh bread slathered in butter or a bowl of rice.