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Over Hill and Under Hill

I am trying to think of a project for November. I might very well do NaNoWriMo, as I have nothing better on my mind.

The reality?

I haven’t the slightest idea what I want.

Or rather, what I want that seems to be Worthy of Doing.

All these productivity books and inspirational material and all that smack? They talk about that damn Robert Frost poem. Let me tell you, I’ve done things that were out of the norm. Just being out of the norm, just being extraordinary, doesn’t blasted well make something worth doing. I mean, sure, sure, it might be.

But it might not.

Figart Consulting? Sure, sure, I get a charge out of my “office” folding up in my purse so that I can work anywhere. In my pajamas, on a train, on a balcony at the beach. That’s all awesome.

But without self-control, it means you’re working everywhere, which isn’t necessarily a great thing.

So what about some of the other writing projects or community building I’ve participated in?

Yeah, sure, that was worthwhile, though I cannot say that ultimately the circumstances surrounding their creation were particularly happiness-inducing. I learned a lot and left a body of work behind me that has been stated to be worthwhile from some sources that are more than a little flattering.

And that’s all cool. But when trying to think about what to do with one’s life and one’s time, sometimes I think the advice we get doesn’t make much sense. A lot of it seems to be a bit too much centered around what other people are going to think about you when you’re gone.

You know what?

In general, even people you had a great effect on aren’t going to give you an extraordinary amount of thought after you’re gone. I’m not talking about close personal relationships here. I mean the wider world.

Take Heinlein. I cried when I heard he died, yes. His work had a deep and profound effect on my life. His life? That effect meant nothing to him. It couldn’t. He never knew I existed. He died before the effects of his work on me could make themselves known in the world. Hell, he might have rolled his eyes or been horrified at what I’d done with his work and his ideas.

I think, other than attempting to be kind (and God, can you misjudge THAT!), you can’t live your life with an eye to your legacy. It makes your days anxious, empty and unsure.

But even so, our lives are limited. What makes the actual hours one lives worthwhile? Making stuff? I find extraordinary pleasure in making stuff, yes. I have a skull table runner on a black tablecloth right now that I made for my October decorations and they make me happy. I feel good that I did it, and I had fun doing it.

Does it benefit anyone in the wider world? Not really. I have this home I keep neat and orderly and nicely decorated, and the only reason I do it is that it gives me pleasure to be in it. I rarely have company, so few people see it.

Knitting? I get sweaters I like out of it, and that’s nice. That’s not Road Less Traveled stuff, though. There really won’t be much of a legacy going on because I knitted my husband a Slytherin Sweater while listening to Spinning Silver (BTW, the audiobooks is extraordinarily well done).

Working out? Certainly, I like having a body that’s strong enough for my needs. I want my blood sugar to go down, so I’m dieting. That’s less a project and more health maintenance. I’d like to put off the day I must go on insulin as long as possible. So far, so good. That’s a nice goal, but hardly Great Work.

“Now it is a strange thing, but things that are good to have and days that are good to spend are soon told about, and not much to listen to; while things that are uncomfortable, palpitating, and even gruesome, may make a good tale, and take a deal of telling anyway.” — The Hobbit, or there and back again, by J.R.R. Tolkien.

The reality? I love my quiet life and my little hobbit hole. And I feel vaguely guilty about loving it, as if loving that little life is really copping out somehow. I think that’s why I am starting to chew my lip at the Excellence Literature that we’re seeing. It’s as if this quiet life is somehow not worthy, even when it was chosen with open eyes and on purpose!

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Getting Rid of Should

Two years ago, I tried a new organization system – The Bullet Journal.

You’d think this is going to help you be all productive and stuff, and remember what you need to do. And so it does.

Oddly enough, that’s not why I love it. Yes, yes, yes, I have a mind like a sieve and being able to refer to things written down, to think and to plan and to have a concrete place where I keep all that planning is awesome, it really is.

That’s still not why I love it.

I love it because it lets me stop being a prisoner of “should.”

I should clean the house.

I should be working out.

I should be productive constantly.

I should make that phone call.

I should…

It’s not that my house isn’t clean (it is). It’s not that I don’t get in my exercise. (I do). What the Bullet Journal has helped me do, however, is focus on what I want to do and let go of what I don’t want to do.

I get a lot more done.

When you have a Bullet Journal, one of the things you’re supposed to do is review the tasks you’ve set yourself. If you didn’t complete a task, you migrate it to the next time period (week/month/year) that you intend to do it. I promise you that once you’ve migrated a task more than three times, asking yourself, “Is this really important to me?” becomes very easy. If it isn’t important to you, it is better not to clutter the journal or your life with it. You just cross it out.

I do more things I’ve been meaning to do and just put off or let go. When I started the Bullet Journal, I’d been meaning for years to do some seasonal decorating – nothing big, just some table runners and centerpieces for my dining room with a theme for the month or season. I have that now, and it’s a small thing that makes me happy. Instead of time getting away from me, I’m living through it consciously and deliberately.

Writing down the things I wanted to do in the Bullet Journal let me focus, though, on things that seemed nifty, that I wanted to do, and wanted to experience. It put a value on them instead of just dreaming. Stuffs what are writ down are Important Stuffs, yes?

It allowed my wants to become more important. To become Projects.

To be done.

I have a hobby of making bento. I also have a hobby of going for walks on some really great groomed paths I have in my area. I’d been meaning for years to pack a couple of bento for my husband and I, taking a nice walk and having lunch in some nice spot in the woods or by a river. We’ve done it a couple of times now and we’ve enjoyed it a lot. Is it a big deal? Not really. Just a picnic, really. Not expensive, not fancy. But it’s fun and we enjoy it.

I admire living deliberately. I admire and value choosing how you are going to live and then doing it. For me, the Bullet Journal has been an incredibly powerful tool in doing so.

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Have You Broken a Habit?

You’re going to die.

I was listening to an audiobook about creating the life you want that was unusually good, when this little gem came out.

Okay, true. I’m going to die. The moments I have in this world are limited. So, why am I listening to this audiobook and playing this mindless matching game? I mean, the audiobook is fine, but if I need to do something while listening, there’s that sweater I’m knitting for Peter sitting within arm’s reach. I could just as easily be knitting that and listening. Which one is Future Me going to be happier about?

I got to thinking, as is my wont, and I decided to make a rule for myself.

No listening to audiobooks and not doing something else productive.

That was the whole justification I gave myself for spending that monthly fee on the Audible account, wasn’t it, that I was going to be more productive. I can knit, clean house, go for a walk outside or on the treadmill… anything. But it must be working towards a goal or useful task of some sort. For the most part, I kinda do this. My house’s organization owes itself almost completely to audiobooks. However, it is clear I am slipping on my use of this medium. There’s just no excuse, though, for listening and playing Popit. None.

I started thinking about the hooking in a bad habit with a somewhat decent one and remembered from my teens and early twenties that I used to like to read and snack. I even used to joke if I never snacked and read, I’d be rail thin.

Thing is, I broke that habit. I’ll read and eat a meal if I’m eating alone, but in general, I don’t snack much. I’m not rail thin, either, but that’s neither here nor there.

The point is, I broke that habit. Totally broke it more than fifteen years ago, and you know what? I never really noticed.

So, I have a question for all of you.

Is there a habit you have broken, but never really thought about? Maybe it deserves a little Go Me right now!

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Wake Up Calls and Why I’m Going to Smack You

The rhetoric around people solving health problems with a lifestyle component make me nuts. I mean like, I have to go get face down in a pool for an hour or something or “I’m going to start throwing punches” nuts.

You see this crap all the time.

Angela from East Nowhere, OH lost 70 lbs and this is how she did it!

Hi, I’m Angela, a 33-year-old mother of two who has a business embalming deceased laboratory mice as an art supply for PETA demonstrations. I was happy enough but of course I’d gained some weight after having my two perfect children. When I went to the doctor, imagine my shock to find that my blood pressure was 270/110. It was such a wake-up call.

I decided I had to make a change in my life, so I could be a good mommy and a good example to my kids because I didn’t want them to be embarrassed by having a fat mom, so I started running marathons and eat only the finest produce picked by virgin elves under the light of the full moon when the dew has just fallen on alternate Wednesdays. I’ve given up television and am so embarrassed at all the evenings I spent watching Game of Thrones and eating a bowlful of candy.

Life is so much better now and I’m full of energy and my marriage is wonderful now that I’m a size six again. I look forward to my salads and springwater, and nothing wakes me up like a ten mile run in the sleet!

See, I’ve had a health scare, and yeah, it has a lifestyle component. (It has a genetic one, too, mind. No-one ever talks about that part).

I went for a doctor’s checkup and I’m prediabetic.

Did I decide to make some changes? Why, of course I did. I’d much rather try the lifestyle thing if at all humanly possible because managing blood sugar on insulin is a lot bigger pain in the ass than swimming a few miles a week, lifting some weights, and steering clear of the pasta. Sorry, candy and Game of Thrones never was part of my lifestyle, though I’ll admit being a writer and editor is sedentary as hell. I’ve always been pretty good about getting at least those CDC recommended 150 minutes a week of exercise. It must be showing on my heart indicators, because even my doctor believed me! I just upped the amount I’m getting and am trying a ketogenic diet for a while. (Rare steak, bacon-wrapped asparagus, and strawberries with whipped cream. Oh yes, pity me…)

The thing is, that subtext from Angela’s testimonial (and isn’t the evangelical term testimonial a big damn red flag) is that she became more moral and a better human from doing these things. Terms like “wake up call” and the “I’m so proud of you” condescending nonsense you get from people really says to me that there is a better way to look at it.

We don’t need to witness about focusing on one’s health, friends. Look at it like an engineering problem and take the emotion out of it. What do the peer-reviewed studies actually say? Read them. Health articles often overstate lifestyle stuff because it sells magazines and supplements. Would you buy a diet from Angela? Should you be getting your health advice from someone whose self-contempt was that strong?

No.

I have a problem, yes. I am applying a solution, absolutely, but don’t witness at me or ask me to witness.

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I’m Not Babysitting!

This picture was taken some time in 1969, I think. Daddy’s feeding me. Of course, right? Daddies take care of babies.

That’s what I internalized as a young child, anyway.

I didn’t learn until sometime later than Daddy’s involvement in my brother, and my care was a little unusual for the time. He changed diapers. He got up in the night with children. He was there for bathtime and cuddling and putting to bed routines. Well, sometimes the evening wrestling matches with Daddy got us too spun up to sleep, but hey, they were fun!

He did what we accept now as something any parent would do – be involved with and care for the kid. It wasn’t just Daddy being there for playtime, as obviously, he was, but Daddy being there for routine care, too.

However, if he were out and about with us, but without Mom, some man was sure to comment, “Babysitting the kids today?”

That used to drive him up a wall. As far as he was concerned, parents don’t babysit. They care for their kids. Yeah, fathers, too!

This was a time when there were fathers who’d brag they’d never changed a diaper – as if that’s something to brag about. It was a time when plenty of men considered it okay to work, come home and zone out in front of the TV while Mom got the kids to bed.

Dad wasn’t trying to be a feminist, I think. When we’ve talked about it, what Daddy generally says is that he wanted to be involved with us and considered the work of caring for us as part of that.

I consider myself lucky to have had a nurturing father.

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It’s Too Hot for Coffee!

It’s that time of year when people say, “It’s too hot for coffee.” These people do not understand coffee and are not to be trusted.

My grandmother loved coffee, and she liked it amazingly strong. There was no such thing as a day that was too hot for coffee. Her theory was that on a hot day, you should drink a hot cup of coffee, as it would warm up your insides and make you feel cooler.

I am far more effete than my stern grandmother, and once the temperature gets above a certain point, I really do not want more than a single hot cup of coffee in the morning. After that, I want a cooler and more refreshing drink.

Being a Virginian, I often do enjoy iced tea. However, my Yankee husband isn’t much of a fan.

What we can agree on is a nice class of sweet and creamy iced coffee.

A friend of my encouraged me to try the cold-brew method for making coffee. You know what? For iced coffee, it is utterly perfect. It is also quite easy.

I’m using a two-quart Mason jar for this, but you can really use any container.

Take about 40g (call it a heaping third of a cup if you’re measuring by volume) of medium ground coffee. You don’t want fine ground, or you’ll have a very bitter result.

I confess I didn’t measure the water properly. My favorite coffee ratio seems to be 1:19 coffee to water. This is a few milliliters more than that, but I just filled up the jar with water here. I am confident the result will be fine.

Cap the jar, give it a good shake to mix up the grounds, and put it in the refrigerator.
Now we wait. Cold brew’s real disadvantage is that you do have to plan a little in advance. You should let this coffee steep in the fridge for at least 12 hours. In this example, it was more like 24, but who’s counting, right?
After 24 hours, I think this baby is well-steeped. Now, we need to get rid of the grounds.

You can strain the coffee any way you’d ordinarily strain anything with a coarse grind. Cheesecloth is dandy, as is any paper filter.

Because I already own a steel mesh filter and a Chemex coffee maker, it seemed to me to be ideally suited for the task.
And so it does!

Ideally, you’d store this coffee in a container in the fridge, but with my husband and I both drinking it, I’m not really going to bother. It’ll be used in an hour.

The advantage here is that cold-brewed means that you’ll have nicely mellow coffee that doesn’t become too diluted when you add some ice. A friend of mine pointed out that some people like to make coffee ice cubes to go with their drink. This is also an excellent option, but I did not do it for the experiment.

Iced coffee is lovely in the summertime. If you’re a coffee lover, do try it. And hopefully, Grandma won’t be too ashamed of my effete delicacy!

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Do You Consider Audiobooks Cheating?

No, I don’t.

However, the answer is a bit subtler than that. For people who use a phonetic alphabet, there are serious reasons to encourage small children to read until they master decoding. That’s a fancy way of saying that you can look at text in a phonetic alphabet and understand it easily.

Okay, the simpler way to put it is that kids need to practice reading until they master the process. *grin*

Reading text is absolutely a necessary skill. However, in terms of obtaining information, while reading is a major way to do so, it is simply not, nor has it ever been, the only way. Oral traditions are rich sources of information. The problem with them up until recently was how ephemeral they were. But a recording? That preserves more than just the text of what was said, after all.

Believe it or not, there was a theory in the middle 20th century among some scholars that reading silently is a relatively new phenomenon. It has since been debunked, but the reality is that it is common for many people when they read to “hear” a little voice in their head as they do so.

In school, if the goal is to master decoding text, then listening to an audiobook would certainly be cheating, as it skirts the point of the exercise. If the point of the exercise is to gain and retain information, then no, listening to an audiobook is not cheating.

The thing is, I’m not in a classroom myself. I read almost entirely for entertainment, even when it’s so-called scholarly material. I want to be exposed to a clever idea, or fun characters or an interesting plot. I want to learn a new thing.

For the most part, I do this through audiobooks as I am a bit time-crunched. I have work to do, I need to make sure I get enough exercise, I want a clean house. I can take a walk and listen to an audiobook. I can cook a meal or wash dishes or do anything else required to keep my home tidy while listening to an audiobook. So, I do.

I was certainly praised as a child for being a voracious reader. *shrugs* When I was a kid, I took pride in this and a sense of identity from it.

As an adult, I tend to lump books, text, and audio, in with other entertainment media and don’t necessarily see casual fiction as all that nobler than zoning out in front of The Sopranos. The only difference is that I’m getting my dishes done while I’m doing it. I read a lot of books, but I’m not a scholar particularly. I’m doing it for entertainment.

So no, it’s not cheating. It’s not a contest for which I am expecting credit. Is it cheating to learn about astronomy from watching Cosmos rather than reading a popular book on the subject? Of course not.

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A Clean House is a Sign of a Wasted Life

I saw this image floating around the Internet today and it severely pissed me off.

It pissed me off on several different levels. The first level is simply that one is wasting one’s life as a woman doing “women things.” Do not get me started. I mean, totally don’t. Denigrating “women’s work” is one step away from saying that if one codes as “female” one isn’t valuable.

I started the day with a home in need of a bit of TLC in terms of tidying and cleaning. It’s the end of the day, I have my feet propped up, there’s a martini at my left elbow and when I scan my immediate surroundings, I feel happy.

Why?

Things are acceptably uncluttered.

It’s not about being Perfect Little Wifey or any nonsense like that. My husband has done “housework” today, too. He made breakfast (steak and eggs, and oh my GOD was it good), cleaned up from that, emptied the dishwasher, emptied the trash, cleaned out the aquarium, made us lunch, cleaned up from that, brought me a martini… Oh, hell, I don’t remember everything that he did. He saw what needed doin’ and did it. As did I.

Did we waste the day?

Don’t be an idiot.

To both of us, a clean house means peace. It means a launchpad for other adventures. It means a place to come back to and heal from the wounds of our adventures. We’re neither of us religious, but our home is our sanctuary.

And that’s a lot of the point. I know that some people post that because they feel bad or guilty that maybe their homes aren’t “perfect.”

Mine isn’t.

Nor should it be. A home is a sanctuary, or should be. Does it enclose you and heal you and make you feel safe? Maybe you need some clutter to feel those things. That’s okay. Maybe you feel the sanctus of the sanctuary when things are ritually cleansed. (I do).

Neither side is a waste.

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Mascoma River Greenway Slayton Hill Overpass

I haven’t posted much about the Mascoma River Greenway lately, though I have been following its construction with great interest. They’ve completed a new phase, having paved it and installed safety railings over the Slayton Hill overpass.

I enjoy walking, not only as recreation or exercise, but merely as transportation. This greenway has me very excited because as it is being completed, it becomes quite safe and relatively easy to walk from my house to my preferred local shopping center. The construction hasn’t gotten that far yet, but the progress has been so amazing.

I spent the whole walk we took on it today in the gorgeous fall weather just gushing about how amazing and wonderful this greenway is. Lebanon has really needed it, and it’s clear people are making quite a lot of use of it. We saw a few people on bikes, several people walking their dogs (remember Lebanon has a leash law, my neighbors!), a few people clearly just out for a stroll.

Local peeps? If you’re happy about a nice and useful walking trail, join me and donate some money to its construction. If you don’t have money, but do have time or skills, you can get involved and join in work days on the trail. It’s already wonderful, but I am still fantasizing about being about to take a nice long walk some summer night to the movie theater.

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Dorm Rat Cooking: Beans and Rice

One of the things you find when you are living in limited space is that you have limited space to store food. I know – DUH!

Due to a slight miscommunication on how many cans of black beans we really needed for Taco Stew, I had an extra can of them lying around, along with a pepper that really needed eating up. It was a little wrinkly for a salad, but would be just dandy if you were cooking it. I also had some rice on hand, because if you eat rice, you should always have some on hand.

So… Beans and Rice.

I haven’t been doing many (okay, any) vegetarian meals here, mostly because I am a carnivore, but there are some vegetarian meals I am fond of, and this is one. It’s easy, it’s quick, it’s healthy, and it’s tasty.

To make this meal, you will need:

  • Sharp knife
  • Cutting board
  • Deep Skillet with a lid and heat source

One-Pan Beans and Rice

  • 1 15 oz. can of Black beans (Don’t try dry beans here. Takes too long to cook)
  • 2/3 c. rice
  • 2 c. diced bell pepper. (I happened to have red. Any color is fine)
  • ½ c. diced onion
  • 2 T minced garlic
  • 1 ½ c. stock (vegetable or chicken is fine. I used water and a bullion cube)
  • 1 T Montreal Seasoning. No, stop looking at me like that. The heavy pepper is good and it’s versatile. If you don’t have room for a big spice rack, this is something you want on hand.
  • 3 T olive oil

Heat the olive oil on medium high. Sauté the peppers, onions and garlic until the onions are translucent. Add the black beans and rice. Stir. Add stock and give it another good stir. Cover and reduce heat to a simmer. Cook for ~20 minutes.

I had planned for leftovers. Looks like there won’t be any. Which, given the tiny fridge, I am actually just dandy with!