Finding Family

Losing all of my grandparents before I could learn their stories left a huge desire in me to learn more about my family. My constant queries confound my parents who only know so much. They were raised by parents who didn't really talk or share much personal information, completely opposite from how they are with me and my brothers. However, this leaves a gaping hole in the Adams' and Dufords' family trees. A hole I want to fill in.

This led me to begin a family ancestry search. I'm making my process sound way more fancy than it really is - one day, I had my dad down to visit me and over lunch, we created a family tree for his side of the family as far back as he could go. No delving into personal histories or elaborating on who was who. About two week-ends ago I spent some one on one time with my mom and meant to ask her about her side. Alas, I forgot.

And I have yet to sign up for any of those online sites that somehow do the search for you and/or assist you in doing one. I'm not sure I can go that rout because I have a serious lack of information on my side to go by. For instance - since my mom knew I wanted to look up her mother's family in Quebec, she started looking for my meme's birth certificate as a good place to start. She couldn't find it. What she did find was her own birth certificate and on it, her last name is spelled Dufort. Now, one letter difference may not seem like a big deal, but it is. Because there is no one left alive to explain 1) which spelling is correct or 2) was it misspelled on the birth certificate or in her life? and 3) why? how let this error go for a lifetime? This will also lead to more searching on my part to figure out which name is really our name to trace.

At first my parents couldn't understand why I had such a strong desire to discover who our family was. When my mom discovered the last name mistake, she realized how much she might not know about her family and was astonished. And totally encouraging for me to continue. My next step in the plan is to visit the Manchester Franco-Canadian museum located on Concord Street and to connect with my father's side of the family through nieces and nephews still living (they're out on the West Coast). I've also got this neat lab manual from my old job to help me in my search. It teaches you different approaches on finding out about your ethnic background, how to talk with people about it, how to track the information, and also different theories on understanding family dynamics.


I've got a lot of work ahead of me and life kind of keeps me busy. Like Stephen King said though in his book, On Writing, if I don't make time every day to write and literally lock myself in there until the alloted amount or time has passed, it won't get done. So I will attempt to look at this as not only uncovering my past, self reflection, new agey crap, but also as a means to practice writing. Maybe that will help me follow through better.

A Round House Kick To the Face

Jason and I watched the YouTube Republican debate last night. For anyone who missed it, here are a few highlights -

• seeing and hearing fat, wealthy, old Republicans CHEERING when more than one candidate said lines similar to this one "We ain't leavin' Iraq until we've WON!"

• Governor Mitt Romney being schooled. A retired Brigadier General said he was gay and had served for 42 years. He asked if candidates thought men and women in the armed services could be professional enough to serve with homosexuals. Following some answers, Mitt Romney was asked by Anderson Cooper, the moderator, "You once were quoted as saying you looked forward to a day when gays and lesbians could serve freely in the armed services. Do you still hold to that statement?" Mitt Romney stuttered, said something like, now is not the time for that vision...we've got a war to win...Anderson repeated the question and Mitt finished with "I look forward to the time when the US Armed Forces are ready to consider that idea." Sorry Mitt, lame answer.
  

• Our country needs over 2 TRILLION dollars worth of infrastructural repairs (just so we all know how many zeros that is here it is written out $2,000,000,000,000,000+). Bridges, tunnels, power suppliers, and water ways are only minor parts of our taken for granted infrastructure. Why is THIS not a hot topic issue being debated? Health care for everyone, more money in education, immigration, and war are all majorly important topics, but while we pour all our attention and money into foreign politics and war, our country is literally falling apart and is too expensive to repair.
  

• Ron Paul actually agreed with Democrats that the troops in Iraq should come home NOW. Out of all of the candidates, this man was one I didn't completely despise. Not sure if this was in part to a lunch time conversation I had prior to watching when a woman I know said he is "not really a Republican." A YouTuber actually called him on this liberalism. He said Paul would definitely not get the Republican backing, but would he let everyone down and not run as an Independent. Paul came back with "I'm a Republican congressman and I've won X amount of times as a Republican." I liked his honesty and morals to stick with his label.

• 

• Another YouTuber asked about which candidates would back more space programs. Mr. I Heart Huckabee said if we were going to continue space exploration, maybe Hillary Clinton could be on the first rocket to Mars. He got a good laugh on that one and Jason raised his wine glass with a "here here."
  

But the best part of the evening had to be when the camera panned over the crowd and who did I spy?

Chuck "Roundhouse Kick to the Face" Norris (this website will have you CRYING!) Did anyone ELSE know Mr. Chuck is a Republican? Or was I alone in my oblivion thinking Mr. Chuck was above politics and doesn't think about anything but the difference between an oozy and a biretta? Now every time I think of Chuck Norris kicking ass (and trust me, that happens more often than one would imagine) I'll picture not the old, untouched by political parleys Mr. Chuck, but the new suit wearing, smarmy Republican speaking Chuck

Everyone Has a Crying Child Inside

I can’t pretend I didn’t once wish my Dad’s parents had liked me or spent time getting to know me. I did. In college, I realized how special a grandparent and grandchild relationship could be because I had friends who had such relationships. I’d watch tiny, white-haired spinsters totter around on the arms of my friends, hear them share stories with affection, and see the way a family would dote on such a fragile vessel of history. In particular, my friend Laurie had a great Grandma who would write her letters once a month. Laurie was sweet enough to read her letters aloud to me, since I pestered her and said I wanted to adopt surrogate grandparents.

With time maturity replaced bitterness. Instead of waiting for my grandparents to come around and see what a cool chick I was, I decided to seek them out, see what cool people they had been and had become. On trips home from school, if we went to visit them, I’d talk more. I’d ask my dad’s mother about a knitting project or a cross word she was doing. After watching Saving Private Ryan, I wrote my grandfather a letter to thank him for his service in WWII and to ask if he’d share any stories. He wrote me my first and only letter from him. The next time I went home, my dad gave me some medals and other small things that his dad had asked him to give to me.

All this “bonding” didn’t happen over night. It was a span of 3-4 years. And in my senior year of college, while I was studying abroad in England, my dad’s mother died. My grandmother had diabetes and did not take care of herself. She died from complications. I was sleeping when someone came to wake me up for a phone call. Half asleep, my mom told me Grammy was dead. I asked when it happened, when was the funeral? And it had all already happened. There was an ocean between us, I was in my first relationship with a Brit, 9/11 had just happened, and 5 hour time lap distorted reality to me. I hung up the phone and went back to sleep. I don’t even think I realized she was dead because a week later my mom had to tell me again. My grandfather died about 3 years later. He had a heartache.

I’m ashamed to not clearly remember the dates…is detachment any kind of an excuse? What strikes me as even odder is that I lament their deaths more now then I did at the time of the real events. There are instants like the yarn/knitting one where I feel the loss of these two people, the loss of a potential relationship, so keenly I get tears in my eyes. It is not impossible to miss people I didn’t know because the loss is all wrapped up in hopes, dreams, ideals…

There is no remorse in my heart for not trying harder or blame that they did not try sooner. I’m happy at the end we stopped hiding behind the past and finally saw each other as living people, people with feelings, people that just maybe, we could care about. There are a few things I will miss though – my grandfather was going to teach me how to carve. He was really gifted. The stories – these two people lived in a different era than I did and lived in Manchester their whole lives! They were a warehouse of stories. Their basement – it was walled with stones and seemed like a castle dungeon, but there was a MESS of stuff to look through, including his workshop area that had a MILLION tiny drawers to hold screws, nails, bits, and pieces. My grandmother’s craft stuff – I just bought a 5 pack of double sided knitting needles for $15 dollars!!! (was it because they are bamboo?)

I guess this is just a way for me to acknowledge that I somehow grew to love these two people. Over all the obstacles and in some strange way that was entirely different than the cuddling grandma’s I saw at college, my dad’s parents were my Grandparents after all.

John Edward

February 3, 1928 - 2003

Francis Veronica

August, 1932 - 2001

ps. I had to call my dad to learn the dates and my grandmother's middle name. I didn't know it was Veronica...kind of spicy for the old lady she turned out to be. There's probably a lot I don't know about her and my grandfather.

All I Want For Christmas

As Jason and I were falling asleep last night, he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. He's asked me this about three times and each time I say I don't know. And I really don't. Not shopping and being sucked into consumer areas leaves me unaware of things I might want or long for. Anything I really need, I go and get myself.

So being in a lucid state and free to dream, I answered him last night with these items:

A garden of my own
A Compost Bin
A Cold Frame
A Chicken Coop
A house with a little fence

A Stitch In Time

The past has always been something fascinating to me. Old anything – people, records, books, dinnerware – is to be treasured and preserved. I’m not really sure from where this love of old things springs. Maybe it is a characteristic of my creation alone, from the countless hours I spent as a little girl wandering around first my great grandmother’s house and then my dad’s mother’s house, looking at the weird amalgamation of stuff people collect over a lifetime. (yes, that makes her my grandmother, Grammy as she wanted to be referred to and was by my cousins, but that is a long story) I am a bit cocky to think someone didn’t help to instill this quality in me, though.

As Jason, his sister Angela, and I prepared to leave for Syracuse yesterday, The Past snuck up to join me. Families gathering together is a big invitation for memories of those family members not present anymore. Angela was showing me some yarn I could choose from to start this new knitting project I have in mind. I was searching through a big bin of yarns when I remembered my dad’s mother. She was such a crafter! She did cross stitch, crocheting, knitting, quilting; you name the craft, she could probably do it! When she died, my Dad was left the responsibility of following through with the wishes of her and my Grampy’s will. This also included cleaning out their house in order to sell it or at least to have new tenants there.

My Dad invited all of us grandchildren to go over and look around for anything we might want to save. Otherwise, my dad was trucking cartloads of stuff to the Goodwill or Salvation Army. He asked me to go over there many times before I actually did. For some reason, I just didn’t feel…entitled to paw through their stuff, due in part to the long story mentioned above. Finally. At his instance, I did go over and knew exactly what one item I wanted – my grandmother’s button tin. As a child I used to stick my hand in this tin to feel all the buttons slide around my fingers. I also liked to dump it out and catalog all the buttons, sorting them into piles designated by a gold color here, or a four hole system there. And most importantly it was one thing she had willingly let me play with when she was alive. I didn’t feel I was “taking” anything.

Now, as I was searching through Angela’s yarn bin, I remembered all the yarns, needles, and other craft supplies my grandmother had. A sadness rushed over me at the thought that I let them all slip away into forgotten-ness, off to a used good’s store for some other person to use. For one thing, needles are not cheap and my grandmother had collected as close to a full collection of sizes that 70+ years can afford a person. Secondly, it would have been one way for me to keep a part of her alive.

Why must life be lived forward but understood backward?

Do Ya Feel The Heat?

If not you soooooooooon will. So much for my dreams of farming...well, I guess I can always farm papayas and mangos...

(As stated by National Geographic in its October 2007 issue)



Average Global Surface Temperature Today: 14.5 C (58 F)

At this temperature:

WATER -

• Increasing precipitation in moist tropics and high-latitude regions. Rain falls in heavier down pours, with the risk of more frequent flooding in both wet and dry areas.
• 
  
• Increasing drought and declining water supply in mid-latitudes and semiarid low latitudes
• 
  
• Hundreds of millions of people face increasing risk of water shortages. Causes include decreased river runoff and loss of glaciers and snowpack
  

HEALTH -

• Increasing illness and death from heat waves, storms, floods, droughts, and fires. Rise in malnutrition.
  
• 
  
• Changing distribution of insects that carry diseases such as malaria and dengue.

COASTS -

• Storms and rising sea levels cause growing erosion of coasts.

ECOSYSTEMS -

• Range of many animals and plants pushed to the higher latitudes and elevations
• 
  
• Coral bleaching increases in the tropics.
  

If average global temperature increases by +1:


FOOD -

• Cereal crop yields tend to improve in mid to high latitudes
• 
  
• Cereal crop yields to decrease in low latitudes

ECOSYSTEMS -

• Oceans acidify.
• Over 30% of species risk face risk of extinction.
• Most corals bleached.
  

+2:

COASTS -

• Coastal flooding affects millions more people each year (small islands and low lying regions in Asia and Africa are especially vulnerable)

ECOSYSTEMS -

• Widespread death of coral reefs
• Ecosystems become carbon sources as permafrost thaws and vegetation burns or decays

+3:


FOOD -

• Cereal crop yields decrease in mid- to high latitude regions
• Cereal crop yields decrease in low latitudes
  

HEALTH -

• Health services worldwide substantially strained

COASTS -

• Worldwide, about 30% of coastal wetlands are lost.
  

+4: (effects intensify as temperatures rise higher)


ECOSYSTEMS -

• More than 40% of species face extinctio

Those Wacky Family Folk

Did anyone know that if you go to BlogHer, the site GIVES YOU IDEAS on what to blog on? Wow. Thanks, BlogHer. I was there scouting around (not that I have any need for fodder quite yet) when I suddenly got sucked into this blog topic. Here goes more reminiscing.

My family's holidays are pretty standard traditions - we get together, play some cards and board games, we cook dinner, we eat, (if at home) we vegetate in front of a tv then go to sleep. I thought this was the extent of everyone's family holidays. Then I started hearing about other family's holiday traditions, things like playing a family slide show, family wiffle ball games, the airing of grievances (which unintentionally happens every holiday with my family too), bike rides, or long car trips to other members of your family's homes. I even heard some people flout the traditional TURKEY for more exotic meals like lamb, fish, stuffed squashes, or tofurkey. I began to wonder, do my family's traditions measure up? Do we even have any traditions?

This year for Thanksgiving I am going home with Jason, so I will be experiencing another family's traditions. This will be the second holiday in my 27 years that I will not be with my parents. (The first holiday was also Thanksgiving and I missed it because I was living in England at the time. I am fortunate enough to have a great best friend, Johanna Sullivan, who happened to visit me then and shared Thanksgiving with me and all my flatmates. It was the first time most of us had cooked a Thanksgiving dinner and literally, it took us all day long. I used to think my mom was milking the sympathy card when she'd sit down at the end of the day and want her feet rubbed. She wasn't. And did you know that turkey is not just clean when you get it? You have to pull out a BAG OF INNARDS!!!!) We'll see how quirky and original they are in their selection of traditions to follow. I'm guessing they'll be a lot like my family's because Jason's family is...a lot like mine, just in a more relaxed, go with the flow sort of way.

The two families actually met when Jason and I moved in together. Both sets of parents were bringing furniture to us, so we all ate some pizza together, had some drinks and talked. It was amazing how perfectly everyone got along. No awkward silences, no arguing. My parents are loud TALKERS and a bit on the aggressively friendly side (and I say this as lovingly as possible because everyone likes them, including me, because of this). They love to "shoot the shit" and my dad especially likes to get wrapped up in telling an hour long story. Jason's dad Rob, LOVES a story. He was the most attentive audience for my dad. I saw where Jason gets his quiet acceptance from. Rita, Jason's mom, had a good back and forth going with my mom.

Anyway, this Thanksgiving will be spent with another family as my family goes on in their tradition. Brian and Maura are bringing a free range turkey over to my parents' house to cook. My nephew Riley and my other brother John and his wife Stephanie will be there. Now that Riley is 4 years old, experiencing holidays, no, experiencing anything with him is that much more fun. He talks now, he processes what's going on, and is this cute little human being. I'll miss hearing what he has to say about the day and I'll miss playing hockey with him on my parents kitchen floor. My mom usually brings out this special set of china that I particularly love. It is one set out of two from my great grandmother on my mom's side of the family. This one I love is a white plate with these delicate pink flowers on long silverish stems along the side. The other set, which I also like, is this weird opalescent copper colored set. I've seen the latter in antique stores before, so I'm thinking once I inherit it, cha-ching! Just kidding. These two plate sets will be one of few things I'll have that will be from my mother's mother and her mother.

Though my family's traditions may not be as monumental as a family newsletter or a slide show presentation set to music, they are traditions. They are rituals of people and of place, enacting over and over again simple steps that hold other traditions within them, keeping my family's past alive. I didn't appreciate the power of our traditions growing up (I catch myself saying this more and more lately and just want to reach back to smack my adolescent self and say, GET WITH IT! who wants kids when they don't appreciate ANYTHING?) because the meaning wasn't clear and there were no theatrics (well, unless you count the time my aunt caught my brother and her husband smoking "something" and she angrily ran off into the woods. That was dramatic). With age, I see it was never about what we were doing. It was just about being a family, together.

New Dreams

When I was a little girl I never dreamed of owning a home. My dreams were smaller scale than that - I pictured myself living in a bustling city, married and raising a family in an apartment. I've just never needed that much space. And from my days as a youf in the country, I wanted to raise my children to be a part of the world, not separated from it as I felt I had been. Any errand necessitated at least a 15 minute drive to Manchester. Candia is a spread out small town, so there was no central location for youth to congregate at. Staying after school to hang out with new, city friends became an issue in high school. My thoughts were if only I'd grown up in the city, I would have been so much cooler, freer to do more. No child of mine would have to deal with the separation of interests like I did.

Many moons later, here I am living my youthful dream - minus the husband, the family, and owning an apartment. I'm living with my hunny in a bustling city, loving our apartment, everything to do at my fingertips, and you know what I want to do with my spare time now? I want to raise chickens. Two chickens. And I want a garden. I want to build a cold frame with old windows I salvaged from a sidewalk as the top cover. I want a compost bin and a vermiculture bin too (this is a worm bin). Almost none of these activities I can do in my current living situation. Thank God for community gardens or I would be limited to growing things that can survive in about 2 hours of sunlight a day and small pots (ie aloe, jade, and other shade tolerant house plants, of which we have many, but I can't EAT them).

Now I see the benefits of space and the potential benefits of a house, with real land. Even if I had a backyard that consisted of more than a porch, this is not my property. I can't do what I want here, I have to ask permission. And not only would my landlady have to approve, but so would the city through its laws and ordinances. Owning a home on land, even an acre, it would be MY land. I could have no grass only garden if that's what I wanted to do. I'd have a yard to build things in and places to leave them. Moving to live in the country, to own a house with land has more to do with the lifestyle I want to live, not just the hobbies I want to pursue.

Another new dream of mine, well, not so new since it's been around since 2003 now, is to live on a farm and be a farmer's wife. A farmer's wife has the best position on the farm. She is usually the assistant manager on the farm and she has two worlds she moves in - the house and the land. From my stint as a farmer's apprentice, I know the responsibility and the work load of a farm manager/farmer. I can honestly say that is not for me. But to support that person, to be able to work on the farm on an as needed or as I want basis, would be perfect for me. Farming makes work not just a job, but a way of life. Out of all the jobs I've done, no other has left me as satisfied in all realms of my existential and physical self as farming. To make this dream a reality, I need practice. These hobbies I want to start are ways to practice, and I need room to do them.

I don't know if "getting older" has something to do with it, but I recently had a revelation brought on by a few things - 1) I told Sobe over at Pass the Chalk that if she wrote about her dreams, they would come true. Once I'd written that down, I said to myself, what the heck am I writing into life? 2) I read Michael Pollan's book, a great reminder of why I started my food journey 4 years ago 3) I found some small farmers' blogs. With all these kicks to the head, I decided if I want to be a farmer, I have to be pro-active.

What am I doing to get there? How am I keeping up my practice?

This does not mean I have to be farming because it is not possible for me to farm right now. What it does mean is I can focus more. I can focus on how to make my every day goals, time, hobbies, everything to be a part of leading me toward farming/my bigger dream. I feel naive writing this, like I'm old enough to have known this already. Like I should have set goals and started living them before now. Instead of continuing in that vein, I'm going to realize that I was indeed young before and there was a lot of life to live. If I'd asked myself at ages twelve, fifteen, and twenty what I wanted to be when I grew up, the answers would not have included farming. My path to here is what has prepared me for entertaining that notion. If that is the case, it was all worth it! Thank goodness I see a life goal at this early age.

Sunlight to Dust

Everyone is aware of this Bible verse – “Dust to dust” (Genesis, 3:19) but a more accurate phrase might be “Sunlight to dust.” Because before the dirt, there was Sun. (There was also water and dark first, but I am focusing on the Light part here) And after the Sun, came plant life then animals, then humans.

* aside * I believe in evolution and a God, but just writing out the story of Genesis a new point leaped out at me – even an evolutionist can see some truth in this story. For regardless of how everything was created, the roles that followed creation established a food chain as written above, a chain of interdependence. (might not even the scientific kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species taxonomy have evolved from the same line of thought?)

Two wonderful things made their way to me today. One is a quote, the exact last line of Michael Pollan’s book, and the other is a poem by E.E. Cummings that I randomly picked to read. Both shared sentiments similar to the idea that from the sun which we all came, thus shall we return. What a neat idea that has room for evolution, Darwin, God, and creation alike.




“…however we choose to feed ourselves, we eat by the grace of nature, not industry, and what we’re eating is never anything more or less than the body of the world.”

- Michael Pollan




“when god lets my body be" By E.E. Cummings

when god lets my body be

From each brave eye shall sprout a tree
fruit that dangles therefrom

the purpled world will dance upon
Between my lips which did sing

a rose shall beget the spring
that maidens whom passion wastes

will lay between their little breasts
My strong fingers beneath the snow

Into strenuous birds shall go
my love walking in the grass

their wings will touch with her face
and all the while shall my heart be

With the bulge and nuzzle of the sea

Hiatus

This week-end I got lost inside a ferocious turmoil of anxiety. That is all I can say as an excuse for the lapse in my posting. It left me wondering if I needed professional help. There are a few friends out there I call on in these situations, I like to call them “Life Coaches,” and according to them – 1) I’m not crazy and 2) I don’t need counseling, but if I want to seek help, I should.

I wanted this last week of increased anxiety to be caused by something other than me. The thought that I could be this crazy and insecure just didn’t fit into the picture of me I have in my head. The easiest scapegoat is birth control. Many women experience violent mood swings and I thought this may be what was happening to me. I called my doctor to ask about hormone levels and if I should switch brands of pills. To my chagrin, the birth control I take is the best one I could be on. The dose of estrogen and progesterone are lower than any other brand. And I’ve been on one form of the same pill for the last year (a set of pills under the brand ‘Love Lite.’ yea, it’s ok to laugh at that). I did a quick mental search of how many times in the past year I thought something in my body was different due to a “switch in my birth control” – more times than I’ll admit to. Maybe this was what I really needed to hear – nothing but me was making me crazy for the last week.

As I hung up the phone, I felt oddly better. There was no cause to search anywhere outside of myself for the answer; the answer was in me somewhere. Finally my rationale stepped back into office and I wrote a quick list assessment of what was actually happening in my life to see if the events would correlate to how I was feeling. Step by step I wrote out what had been making me feel insecure and this really helped. Through my writing I was better able to see the actual timeline of events clearer and even moments where I overlooked a small step that may have stopped my anxiety earlier. End result of exercise – Erikka was over reacting in response to assumptions she made, not hard facts or reality. Crises averted - I’m not too crazy to be saved. Just high strung and prone to fly off the handle at things I make up. Good to know about myself.

Part of this plague started in response to Jason going through his own funk this past week (and it still may be on going). Jason is an introvert. I am an extrovert. We communicate very differently, but we are willing to work and listen to each other, so most time our communication is beneficial. This week, Jason had been even more introverted than usual though he told me why. My extroverted self took this admission and tried to run wild with it – how can I fix it, what can I do for him, how is he feeling today, he should be talking more about this, etc…Tackling an introvert’s problems from an extrovert’s perspective just doesn’t work, which was leading me to more internal opposition and putting more distance between he and I. This on top of my anxiety was a recipe for disaster.

After speaking on the phone to the nurse, the fog of anxiety cleared from my head. I saw both issues as separate – my anxiety and Jason’s having a bad week – and how they were affecting each other. First I wrote out my assessment of actual events and next I did some Google searching on improving communication, living and loving an introvert, and other related materials. It was not until an hour later I sat back from my computer and felt satisfied. From that moment on, I focused on my work projects and the anxiety took the back seat. (forever!...one can only hope) For the past week I had taken no actions to help myself out of my position. The feelings alone had consumed me. With the two, small steps of writing the list and reading ways I could try to improve communication, I was freed. This gave me a small glimpse into the world of people who are severely depressed or anxious. I can see better how people might not get out of the mist in order to act on their behalf. I feel fortunate to have gained more compassion for others, and for myself, through this last week.

This Little Piggy Got Depressed and Stayed Home

*This post will contain a possibly disturbing image so please be warned.*


This is a picture of a cute little piggy. Notice its curly little tail. Do you like its curly little tail? Don’t you think that little curl adds a certain…flair to the pigs’ overall appearance? I do too. (Here’s Amanda’s story on why pigs have curly tails that I found while researching) Like dogs, pigs can move their tails. Not quite as much to show happiness in wagging or anything, but when they get stressed, they straighten their tails. Pigs are not only cute, they are smart little cutie pants, ranking as the 4th smartest animal/mammal. And like say, smart humans, smart pigs are able and prone to have “feelings,” or at least moods on the same cognitive level as a 3 year old child. Pigs can get stressed, or even bored doctors say, from being in environments they do not “like.” When this starts to happen, their tails straighten. Within a few days, they will begin to nip at other pigs’ tails and continue to do so until they bite them off! An un-depressed or un-stressed out pig would fight back. A stressed out pig literally “doesn’t care” and lets its tail get bitten off.

I couldn’t imagine an environment I would like less than a CAFO, or a concentrated animal feeding operation. This is where animals are crowded together in a large warehouse like place, living on slats raised over their manure piles, stuck face to butt. Most of Americas’ pork is raised in a CAFO - that is alotta pigs to be tail nippin’ stressed out. If these piggies all had gaping tail wounds, infections would be rampant and there goes our supply of bacon, sausage and pork chops. Operators of these CAFOs have deduced a way to combat the pigs stress – to cut little piggy’s tail off when he or she is born. And they don’t just cut it off, these operators are even more far thinking than that simple remedy. No, they cut it off (without antiseptic) to leave a little stump that is super sensitive. This way, if a pig bites this sensitive little stump, even a depressed pig will be unable to ignore the excruciating pain and will at least try to stop it.


The picture above is what happens in reality as soon as a piglet is born – castration, teeth filed, and its tail cut off. I read this first in Pollan’s book and as I was searching for other factual reports to support what he was claiming, I found these disturbing images and other stories that made the reality of America’s pork production gruesomely real. Knowing this information is not intended to convert meat eaters or glorify vegetarians. For me, it’s accepting what is happening to animals in order to supply me with food; it is what is happening to deteriorate America’s food chain, maybe even the world’s food chain. Because when I sit down to a breakfast of eggs, toast, home fries and sausage, if it is not from a small, local farm, it is from a CAFO. And I, in my consumption choices, was a part of the cycle of a pigs life through the yuckiness I just described. I do not like being ignorant or just blindly going along with a routine because “that’s just the way it is done.” I want to know all the facts I can, so I am better able to make a conscious choice of what I am eating and what effects that choice has on the world around me.

It's really hard to see that everything is connected. Especially when CAFOs are not around every corner to be up in our faces to let us know HERE is where your meat is from. But really, that saying "You are what you eat" is true. After reading this book, after finding that image even more horrible than Pollan's words can describe, I want to ask myself and ask anyone who made it through this blog -

If I am what I eat, what exactly am I eating? What does that make me a part of?

Lakshmi not only lives, but will soon WALK!

Too Many Coffee and Cigarette Breaks

There are three major projects I have to complete in the next 4 hours. Because tonight my babe is back and I am not spending one extra moment longer at work than I have to. And I have a slight wine hangover. I’m pretty much too stupid tired to do these projects, but they are like priority level “should have been done last month.” Yet here I am, taking one more break before I “get serious” and “buckle down” to “get the job done.” Clichés and idioms totally describe my inner most complicated feelings accurately. And ps - totally has become my new favorite word of late. Totally.

As shown in the left hand column of my blog, I am reading The Omnivore’s Dilemma. This book is well written and so easy to read. It even made me late for work. Penguin, which is a division of the company I used to work for, did a great job creating the cover for this book. Not sure how much of the cover’s beauty comes through in the Amazon graphic, but the letters are tinted a light gold that accent and off set the other color text and picture very well. The whole feel is one of academia or of an old book almost. Even the pages and binding of the book add to this feeling by being soft and flexible instead of stiff and rigid. (the kind of binding you have to “snap” and break so the book stays open. I dread that snap…)

When conversation comes round to the subject of Michael Pollan’s book, I do not consider myself an expert of any sort. I have no degree in nutrition, ecology, agriculture, or anything remotely related. I’m an English major after all. I do have limited experience from working on a farm. I did design and implement a community garden project in Selma, AL. And I was once a romantic transcendentalist and took a senior seminar on Thoreau. I’ve garnered some knowledge on sustainability, the importance of buying local, and learned to slow down, connect more to where I am. I picked up this book and thought, hey, I know some information on why America’s perceptions on food are fucked. I’ll probably know most of what Pollan’s talking about. It’s true, I can be a tad conceited at times…

Reading this has shown me the small loop holes I had in some areas and gone even deeper into ideas I had only begun to learn about. For a while I knew the term “organic,” and even the USDA Certified Organic labels on packages, have not meant exactly what consumers think those terms mean. Pollan has finally told me WHAT they do mean. The USDA caved to pressure from bigger, factory farms to create easier means for products to be deemed “organic.” Because as the rise of organic, small farmers begin to grow, bigger corporations and special interest groups wanted a piece of that success. At their large size, meeting the standards kept by small farms was impossible. What this means for consumers is this - when you see the above words on a product it mostly means there are less synthetic compounds in that product than in a “non-organic” product.

While eating these products is healthier for us and the Earth, it is not exactly what “organic” meant when those small farmers brought it into the limelight. Organic meant no synthetic compounds. Organic meant animals raised in a field, eating grass, killed humanely. Organic meant you knew what each ingredient on the list was and maybe even where and who those ingredients came from. Organic was not just about eating healthy. It encompassed a process of growing, living, a philosophy! Today that word has been tossed around, stretched and folded, and morphed to encompass even TV dinners. Oh the irony of an organic TV dinner.

Michael Pollan again succeeds (read his other books The Botany of Desire or Second Nature) at bringing crucial information to the reader’s attention. Here are a few random factotums for y’all to whip out at cocktail parties to sound wicked smaht –

The Food Industry burns (through production and transportation) about 1/5 of the petroleum consumed in the United States.

It takes between 7-10 fossil fuel calories to get one food calorie to an American plate.

About 60% of corn grown in the US, about 54,000 corn kernels, feed beef cattle, otherwise known as cows or ruminants = grass eaters.

Cattle fed corn can go from 80 lbs to 1100 lbs in fourteen months. To do this, it takes about 35 gallons of oil. (for growing the corn, moving the corn, processing, moving the cattle, processing, etc)


How’s that food for thought?

Quick Laxami Update

The operation is a success thus far! Laxami is alive and recovering.

And just as a bit of background information -

This is Lakshmi, the Goddess of wealth, prosperity, and all paths of success. Being the female consort of Vishnu, she also symbolizes beauty and balance. This is the deity that the little girl's parents thought might be reincarnated in their eight limbed daughter. When I heard this part of their story, I have to admit, a little part of me wished it were true...the part of me that still believes in magic, the goodness of all people, and in that higher power that created this place I live. Because I'd love to see some sign, some word, something to prove that some God or god or gods or higher power really is out there.

This might then conflict with the beliefs of Catholics, Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, and all those other religions out there with a different image of god or saints or what have you...because really, if Lakshmi appeared, would that mean Hinduism is more real? Do all the Mary sightings and stigmata make the Catholic faith more real? What does make a religion real?

If anyone is reading, and doesn't mind delving into this topic, what do you believe? and what makes it real to you?

Say A Little Prayer

I randomly found this news clip today and had to share it. The human body in all its forms continues to astound and boggle the world. I hope even from people just seeing this little girl's story, some good karma will be sent to her and her medical team
through the next 48 hours.

Erikka and the Infinite Solitude

People who live alone have my respect. I’ll go one step further to say people who live alone and still manage to have a social life deserve major props or street cred or whatever. Being alone is…lonely. I’ve often imagined I could live alone. No one to clean up after. No one to whom I’d have to explain my eccentricities. And lots of naked time. Now that I’m two days into a quasi-living alone experience, I’m not so sure.

Jason has been at a conference in D.C. since Saturday. Fortunately for me, my girl friends week-end fell on the same week-end, so that cut the alone time down. But I was excited at the thought of having the apartment to myself, the whole BED to myself, and to some quiet evenings. Before this relationship I relished me time and actively sought it out. (To some extent I still do, but interestingly, my alone time now can also include Jason sitting nearby or working in another room and it’s the same to me) Having three days and four nights for myself sounded good.

Concepts of space change, sleep is affected, and ideas of living change when you have shared them so closely with one other individual. This may sound so cheesy, but with Jason gone these few days, it’s like a piece of me is on hold. Everything is the same. I cook. I clean up. I watch a movie. I go to sleep. I get up and do it again and maybe hang out with some friends just to spice up life. I’m happy and hungry and excited, sad, mad, etc…but there is still this place in my mind on pause, waiting to push play again. This week-end my friend Christine shared a story with me that resonates truth to me in this experience.

There was a moment when she was off doing something spectacular when she suddenly realized how fun it would be to have Jon there too. And how most of the time she wanted Jon to be there doing whatever spectacular thing she was doing too. She stressed to me this was not when she rushed off to get married immediately. This was just when she realized she wanted him in her life…indefinitely. I’m not saying Jason and I are indefinite…but he has made himself so endeared to me that I want him around to share the adventures I encounter.

Before I knew this experience, living alone to me was freedom. To do what I want when I want to. From my two days of solitude, I realize having my freedom is actually…oppressive! I am an old lady! I don’t like to go out much. My ideal night is a friend over for a movie or scrabble and wine. Or to stay in and do some crafty project. Maybe I’d go take in a free concert or book reading here and there, but really, who am I kidding? If I lived alone, I’d turn into a wrinkled, grey haired, shriveled up crone faster than you could say support hose.

To all you solo living people out there who get themselves out on the town, pat yourselves on the back. It is a struggle every day to overcome the need to just give in to the…comfort, easy, stay-at-home-forever mentality.

Only With Friends

Here are the promised pictures from my girlfriend week-end. This shot is (from left to right) Megan the English teacher, Jon Kleist the StoneWall Kitchen IT guy, and Christine Kleist...I'm not sure her title exactly, but I know it has to do with helping people with special needs find jobs. Christine and Jon started dating sophomore year and he was a permanent part of our group ever since. This was the first night together, before we hit the beer, and kept it classy with $10 wine. We all brought tapas plates to share for a meal. I brought pumpkin squash soup, not really tapas but totally TAP ASS AWESOME!

Here's my recipe -

roast 1 pumpkin (chopped)
roast 1 squash (chopped)
fry some onions with cinnamon, cumin, nutmeg (to taste and smell preference)
put all into a soup pan with 1-2 cups water/vegetable broth
heat until begins to slightly bubble
put half of the mixture into a food processor then return to pot

Voila, soup! (for fun you could also add a little cayenne pepper for the sweet hot compliment)



This is me on our way to the craft fair, lunch, and the ocean. As you can see, it is pouring out side thanks to good ol' Hurricane Noel. But because of the hurricane, the beach was an amazing sight to see with huge waves.



The new edition in this photo is Laurie. She looks ever so thrilled to have to go stand in the rain for a photo.

From the local artisan craft fair I found a nice gift for Jason's parents - can you guess which it is...

On our way home from the fair, we stopped at a famous little diner, the Maine Diner. This was taken by our waitress, Nanette, who called everyone sweetie and doted on us like we were all her children. The food was yummy.

Christine and Jon are new home owners so they have to deal with getting sweaty, smelly little children knocking on their door trying to sell them something. Christine, ever the sweet one who will be a great mom some day, bought some chocolate peanut butter cushions that were ever so yummy to snack on after our tasty lunch.

Finally, all class and swank aside, we busted out the drinking games. We were all a bit rusty and didn't go too crazy but we managed to squeeze in a game of up and down the river and F*** the Dealer. I know, we are true ladies.

Ok, I'm bored with this post now. Because of this NaBloPoMo deal, I felt compelled to write something today. I didn't have a chance to really think though - today at work was really busy and then I had to leave early for a dentist appointment. Some people have blogs to update people about their lives and while I see some of that happening in mine, that is not my major goal. Writing a post like this just does not excite me and I am too...busy to flush out anymore about it.

Argh, blast NaBloPoMo! We'll see how long I last...

A Walk In the Maine Woods

There was no actual walk in the woods done this week-end, but the fresh air, the smell of wood fires, and the nearby trees were a balm to my city weary eyes. Before hurricane Noel blew into town, I did get to enjoy one run out on a dirt road. That was as close to outdoorsy as I got.

My college girlfriends and I are the motliest crew of people. We've been through two of us getting married, one of which I mentioned a few months back, and we've conquered living in four different states at times. Even though we do not talk often, we get together and our chatter is free and I feel as close to them as I did in college. No time will diminish this second (or is it third? the number keeps growing) family.

There are six of us originally, but for this gathering Heather (in San Fran) and Kathleen (jury duty and work) could not be there. Megan, Christine, Laurie and I decided to document the week-end in pictures to then create a slide show for H and K so they would feel like they were there too. These will have to be posted tomorrow or whenever I get them from Laurie's camera. We went to a craft show, watched a few movies, and looked around at the outlets. It wasn't what we did that made this week-end different and more special than other week-ends we've hung out.

For once, this week-end was not a complete regression back to our college selves and an all out booze fest. There was plenty of wine to be drunk and there definitely was some reminiscing done, but it was from the selves we've created in the last five years since graduation. And there was a different kind of respect and communication that took place. Christine is also married (to Jon, another college friend who nicely hid himself away upstairs as we took over the living room for our girl time) and she has settled into her new life as wife, home owner, and worker. Megan is an English teacher at a residential school, one where the kids are usually the ones no other school system has time or concern for. She's also really grown in her Catholic faith and been on many recent faith trips around the world, such as world youth day. Laurie, the married one mentioned above, is a graduate of education student and also is a full time grower of wonderful vegetables, some of which she brought to share with all of us. Then there is me - working the publishing realm for now until I go for my masters in Library Science or Education. It was refreshing for us all to bring these similar yet different backgrounds into conversations for a change.

College was a fun time for me. I say fun rather than educational because it wasn't always the most rigorous of educations, sometimes, it was easy. Also, I was a different person, at a different point, so I may not have been applying myself where I would now. Saying that, it was an experience I wouldn't exchange. I don't need to relive it or continually rehash it though. When my college girls and I got together in the past, we'd sometimes get stuck...in the past too. Not only was I a different person then, but I am even more different now. I can't really go back to who I was, I don't want to go back. This time, they didn't want to either. And we laughed even more over our favorite college memories because we wanted to talk about college, nothing was forced.

These women share a part of my life, a part of me, that no one else can. We were a family at college. I lived with one or all of them in some capacity from freshmen year on, either sleeping in a converted kiddie pool on a floor, on a couch, or sharing a tiny two bed room with Laurie before we finally all lived in a townhouse together. We share beds, clothes, secrets, and details of our lives in a way that only a family could.

All I can say is I am proud of the women we have become. I am looking forward to the next time we meet...to hear more about the interesting, dynamic lives of these strong and wonderful women that I love and call friends. Sisters even.

Day 4 and I'm Already Sorry

There goes NaBloPoMo for me out the window. One day in Maine and all thoughts of technology and my life in Boston went out the window. Being here and seeing my old college girlfriends has truly been joyous fun. I'll write more about them and our adventures together later tonight, but for now, I'm doing this post to make two in one day, an attempt at NaBloPoMo redemption.

For now, I will say just this - all the stress and anxiety I was feeling are gone. Thank God for good friends, good food, and laughter! I've been having such a fun time that I really couldn't tear myself away from them for any length of time to write a post yesterday. Ok, one step further, I didn't even remember for an INSTANT to write a post. How awesome (but yet bittersweet) is it that I was able to relax and let go that much?

To all the internet world, the truth is, it was just what I needed.

Chun Li vs. Vampire Monster Thing

My bad morning turned into a neurotic day yesterday, a day where I felt like I was clashing with everything and everyone around me. Not like, physically in hand-to-hand combat style, no, that would have been easier to deal with than the mental trauma I inflicted on myself. No, it was all a psychological battle of wills, me against the dark me.

Wouldn’t it be great to somehow physically combat evil thoughts, anxiety, and stress? Picture it – you against it - it taking on whatever form you would visualize for such a fight – a fight until the death. Me, I would definitely be Chun Li (from Street Fighter). I'd have the spinning fly kick and the ability to throw lightening balls on my side. The 'It' would be a combination of vampire/monster/ugly thing that would usually intimidate or scare me, kinda like this dude here.

If I were the victor, that would be it, no more evil thoughts with which to deal for the day.

Unfortunately, I can’t physically fight them. I can only practice saying the mantras and reminders to myself of hope, light, and strength, one voice to another inside my head. (wow, just realized how this sounds a bit like a split personality disorder…whoops!) Sometimes it works and sometimes I call in re-enforcements in the form of a good friend to go manic on, running, or writing in my journal.

I’ve come to recognize these days when they are happening (oh, say, once a month or so…if that’s any clue) and the influences on me that cause my feelings to be out of whack. And to voice what is going on to those around me. This last part has been the most eye opening and helpful part of this emotional roller coaster experience. I feel out of sorts, like the world is against me. As soon as I tell someone, like a disclaimer for my weirdness, they usually reply something like ‘oh, I didn’t know anything was wrong. I don’t think you’re being negative.’ Oh. So this really is all in my head? Damn.

Two things I was so very thankful for yesterday were Christine’s responses to my blathering, bumbling emails and to Jason’s patience and love. I’m still new at being in an intimate relationship. This is the first time I have lived with a significant other and he is only my second serious relationship. When I start feeling twisted and crazy, I’m not really sure how to let even my friends in, let alone this person who shares my living space, holds me when I cry, and kisses me each day. Trust, that’s what conquers that fear and I think last night was another step in building a stronger foundation of trust between Jason and I. As we lay snuggled in bed, I told him how I felt estranged from him during this time of the month and couldn’t recognize if it was really him being distant or just my feelings displaced to him. It was…cathartic to formulate these words and say them out loud because that is how I truly feel. The words came so easily to me when I usually have to struggle for them. I did then follow them up with some more verbal diarrhea because I am a bit nervous when sharing such things. I even said something like I want to make sure you don’t hate me when this happens.

Jason laughed then kissed me. He said, Erikka, I love you.

At the end of the day, words like these can kick the crap out of any vampire monster I dream up.




On to some lighter topics -

1. Searching for an image of Chun Li to use showed me some of her in very scandalous outfits and coy postures. Guys, seriously? Cartoon women turn you on?

2. The picture at the end is by an artist named Luke Chueh that I again randomly found while searching for an image. Check out his other art. They are funny, but very...heart rending at the same time, using childlike images to invoke this deep sadness of an innocent nature.

3. This week-end my college girlfriends and are converging in the Maine woods to cook, eat, drink, and reminisce. It will be refreshing to get out of Boston and see some trees, pick some apples, talk about girl stuff, and have naked pillow fights. Because that's all girls do when they have sleep overs - naked pillow fighting.

fyi - I'm the one with the big ol' grin. Ha! not really, but she does look so happy.