Girl Detective

#49 in my 2007 book challenge was Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma.

The blessing of the omnivore is that she can eat a great many things in nature. The curse of the omnivore is that when it comes to figuring out which of these things are safe to eat, she’s pretty much on her own.

Pollan’s thoughtful, thorough, and provoking book is one of the best I’ve read all year. In fluid prose that is neither needlessly academically esoteric, or dumbed down for the masses, Pollan examines four food systems, the meals they produce, and their hidden costs and suffering. The four are agricultural industrial, organic industrial, organic sustainable, and hunted/gathered. In the end, it’s not hard to determine where Pollan’s bias lies after all his research and experience. What makes this book so compelling, though, is that he takes effort and time to explore and explain all the alternative views. The cruelty and problems of industrial farming are clearly delineated, but Pollan’s book situates them in time and place to make them understandable, though nonetheless disturbing.

I was surprised and concerned to learn how prevalent corn byproducts are in the North American diet. Another point I especially liked was that eaters must either be ignorant of where their food comes from and how it’s processed, or choose from smaller, more challenging method of eating, like vegetarianism, or a focus on locally farmed and sourced organic food.

To visit a modern Confined Animal Feeding Operation (CAFO) is to enter a world that for all its technological sophistication is still designed on seventeenth-century Cartesian principles: Animals are treated as machines–”production units”–incapable of feeling pain. Since no thinking person can possibly believe this anymore, industrial animal agriculture depends on a suspension of disbelief on the part of the people who operate it and a willingness to avert one’s eyes on the part of everyone else. Egg operations are the worst,

Pollan quotes Levi-Strauss about the ideal that food should be both good to think and good to eat. According to Pollan, this means that the eater knows how and where her food is produced, and feels good about. There’s another interpretation of the Levi-Strauss, phrase, though, that lends itself less well to Pollan’s text. As Pollan does, though, I find it a useful phrase that will help to guide my food choices. I’m no longer willfully ignorant of the provenance of much of my food. Already I do most of my family’s shopping at our local grocery cooperative. But after the book, I’ve resolved to seek out even more local, organic food, eschew products with high-fructose corn syrup, and cut back on the non-local, non-seasonal organic items that have hidden costs (e.g., petroleum used in transportation) in addition to their high prices.

This book has changed the way I think about food, and will change the way I shop and eat.

#47 in my 2007 book challenge was Elizabeth Swados’s My Depression: A Picture Book. With simple black line drawings and minimal texts, Swados sketches out her history of depression and anxiety, as well as her “little cloud” that grew into a “black hole”. She bravely admits how badly she behaves when she’s depressed, both towards herself and others. She also has amusing lists, such as things people have told her to try to get out of the depression on her own. In the end, though, a combination of medicine and therapy are what worked for her, and her story is of hope and self-acceptance. Her illustrations, reminiscent of Shel Silverstein’s, are deliberately messy, conveying the frazzled ugliness of depression, as well as the silly joy in well-being. I recommend this book for those who have gone through a depression, who are in a depression, or who have known someone who’s been depressed. That should pretty much cover us all, I think.

Pre-school started last month. 4yo Drake got a fever, sleep troubles, and a bad cough week before last. 20mo Guppy had a fever followed by a lingering case of croup.

Virus season in Minnesota lasts from October to April. I think we’re in for a long, snotty winter.

I went to New York City for a long weekend with seven of my high school girlfriends. We had a great tour guide in E, who lives there. We did lots of tourist-y stuff, like the top of Rockefeller Center, an open-top bus tour, Ground Zero, a show, shopping on Canal Street, walking Central Park, and crossing the Brooklyn Bridge at night. I’m not sure we ever stopped talking, and that made something of a spectacle on the subway. (”But we’re the only ones who know each other!” protested our friend P.) We were wives, mothers, singles, professional and stay-at-home. Only three of us live in our home state, now.We are all different, but somehow all the same, too. It was a good weekend.

Some things I was reminded of about NYC: Watch where you step; lots of people have dogs. Restaurants are LOUD. Food is plentiful and varied. Red tour buses are a lot more prevalent than blue ones. Even the coffee lingo is different: a red-eye is a cup of coffee with a shot of espresso–here in MN we call it a depth charge. And in NYC, you can get two shots, which is (of course) a black eye.

I’m sure there’s more, but I can’t recall. There was burn on re-entry, as usual. Guppy refused to kiss me, hug me or let me hold him for several hours. Drake seemed excited to see me, but he’d been sick all weekend, so his listening skills are even sketchier than usual. G. Grod has his hands full over the weekend so I could get time away. I’m very grateful, both to him for the break, and because I have a group of good friends so many years after high school, and that we all made the time and effort for the trip.

When Bill Clinton guested on The Daily Show the other week, he said he thought a lot of the DC political irritability is due to lack of sleep.

Since having one kid, and more so after having a second, I have become a sleep believer. Before, I never napped. I didn’t think I could. Since becoming a parent I’ve learned otherwise. I didn’t or wouldn’t nap because I was anxious and felt I should be doing something else. Now I know that there are few things that “should” be done ahead of sleep. There’s a reason it’s on the base of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, along with eating, drinking, and breathing.

Merlin at 43 Folders shows some love for the nap, too. I’d never heard of dropping the spoon, but I’ve always thought drool is the best proof of nap.

43 Folders has some great ideas on email-box management called Inbox Zero that I need to start now. But then, I’ve said that before, way back when I only had 580 emails in my inboxes. Now I’ve got over 700. Sigh.

After waking at 5:45 am, 19MO Guppy spent most of the morning crying for one reason or another. 4YO Drake spent it doing his version of beatbox and Fatboy Slim refrains over and over. And over. Customer service for problems with my Dell computer notebook is slow to respond. Customer service for problems with my Verizon Nokia cell phone are time-suckingly slow and ineffective. (I will leave brand names up until issues are resolved, so that others may be warned.)

I was dilatory last night and spent time obsessing over upcoming new TV shows rather than finishing my book for book group tonight. I couldn’t find one of Guppy’s shoes, and had to dig out a replacement from Drake’s hand me downs. Tigh! Tigh! he yelled, then defeated the velcro straps in a trice. I went to get the next bigger size of shoes, and Guppy had his first go in shoe-lace shoes, and didn’t seem to enjoy the experience at all. Drake has outgrown all his shoes.

On the bright side, Guppy is now napping. Drake agreed to wear the new shoes I got him last night (and they fit! and have style!). G. Grod made me two smashing cappuccinos this morning, plus left a half cup in the coffee pot. I have many tasty pastries in the house: cherry pomegran toaster pastry, banana strawberry bread, strawberry/white-chocolate-chip scones, and a Thunder Cookie from Positively 3rd Street Bakery. I finished my book. And I probably have about ten minutes before I have to deal with customer service again. I’m going out with smart, interesting friends tonight to a good local restaurant to discuss an intriguing book.

So life’s a mixed bag, weighing a little heavily toward the annoying today. Not surprising. But there’s lots of good to answer the bad, if I let it.

I love lists. I make them. I cross things off. There are a few problems, though.

One is that I don’t throw away lists every day. If there are things left undone, I keep the lists, but still make new ones. Is this a cause or effect of my anxious nature? I don’t know.

Another problem is that I have a very active monkey mind, and tend to write whatever pops into my head on a list, with no regard to whether it’s reasonable, achievable, or quantifiable. So my lists are not only always setting myself up for failure, but they’re also accumulating to remind me of my “failure” to achieve these ridiculous, impossible goals.

(Do you, like me, often mis-type “goal” as “gaol”? Significant, I think.)

I refer not only to task lists, but also to amazon wish lists, reading lists, listening lists, and watching lists. My lists for these have become so bloated that I hardly check them anyway.

I have a practice that I’ve abandoned for a while, and I think it’s time to resurrect. It’s to stop making lists. Instead, it’s to take the moment, when it arises, and calmly consider the next thing to do/read/buy/etc. It relies on trusting both myself and the universe to remember intriguing things, and to remind me of them enough times to fix them in my consciousness. If a book, or cd, or movie, is meant to be in my life, I hope to be reminded of it enough times that I don’t need to write it on a list.

It’s a sound plan. I have considered, and quailed before, the idea of deleting and throwing away all my current lists. Right now it’s all I can do not to make new ones. That is significant progress, so I’ll leave it at that for today.

Yes, I know that life isn’t all happy bunnies and sunshine, or Oprah and bonbons. I think a great deal of my struggle with post-partum depression was that my pregnancy and the adjustment to a second child were so much harder and longer than I’d expected. Further, they upset the rhythm and routine that G. Grod, Drake and I had established. While I knew to accept disruption for a while, the continued chaos and difference of every day wore on me. It felt like body surfing–the variety of waves can be exciting. But once I was tired, I couldn’t withdraw to the beach; I was stuck in the ocean, constantly facing new and different varieties of challenge.

Even now that Guppy is a year and a half, I still struggle to settle our life into routine. It continues to elude me, though. The best I can do for now is to rest, take short breaks, try to look ahead, and not get frustrated when things go awry, as they are so wont to do. We will eventually have a routine, and the peace and comfort that it brings.

I yearn for a simple life, without literal or metaphorical clutter. Two kids, a house, and modern life, though, seem to conspire against me. Near constant vigilance is required to stem the tide of too much stuff. I give baby items my boys have outgrown to friends. I donate regularly. I take myself off mailing lists, but still, the crap creeps in. One of the most superfluous bits of modern junk is the podcast. I steer clear because life is too short, and my limited time too valuable.

M. from Mental Multivitamin periodically expresses the need for “no”. I recently agreed with Lazy Cow that I often hear M’s advice in my head, and count myself fortunate for it. She is a passionate advocate for the value of one’s time, especially as it relates to learning and writing.

I recently attended a writing workshop. I enjoyed it, and thought the writing within the group was very good. When the address list for the class was passed around, though, I didn’t add my email address. I feared looking snobbish and exclusionary. But I couldn’t subject myself to a mailing list, no matter how well intentioned. Some might argue that it’s quick and easy to delete. But it still takes time, and consideration that I want to spend on my current emails from friends and family, and the considerable backlog of correspondence I’ve got dating from when Guppy was born. The address list went around a second time. I think the woman sitting next to me thought I’d been skipped on the first time around. I steeled my resolve, though, and passed it on. I wish the others well in their writing, but I want to spend what little time I have on my writing, not on email about writing.

This has been a challenging week: Drake had a virus and was sick everywhere. He didn’t make it to the bathroom and peed all over me and the basement steps. I drank too much coffee and got so wound up I could barely function on my only day to myself this week. Drake and Guppy are constantly fighting and screeching. I tried to take them to story time at the library today, but Drake kept running around yelling. When I took him out of story time, he and Guppy ran in opposite directions in the library while I tried to check out, then a mentally ill woman began yelling and cursing at them.

Sometimes, I have the urge to crawl under a chair and curl up in a ball, like the baby wombat in one of our favorite picture books, Sometimes I Like to Curl up in a Ball. But my virtual penpal M, who writes at Mental Multivitamin, likes to quote this from Sydney J. Harris:

When I hear somebody sigh, “Life is hard,” I am always tempted to ask, “Compared to what?”

Yes, this week felt hard. But it wasn’t nearly as hard as it might have been if we’d been on the bridge at 6ish p.m. on Wednesday, as we usually are, heading into Minneapolis for new comics at Big Brain.

Life could always be harder, so it isn’t a good use of energy to gripe and dwell. As the teacher notes in yet another of our favorite picture books, Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse:

Today was a difficult day. Tomorrow will be better.

Life Hack has a useful list of Ten Things for Concentration (Link from Scalzi’s Ficlets Blog)

I’m an aspiring writer, and a mother of two small children. I am easily distracted, and prone to feeling overwhelmed. This is a pithy list of good advice. I am heartened that I do many of these already: reduce noise, structure environment, isolate myself (I am typing this now on retreat, in a college dorm room by myself), try to get enough sleep, eat healthful foods, and avoid crappy ones.

This advice is not just useful for writers. It’s good for those who suffer from anxiety and stress, and for those who seek to simplify their lives.

(Written while procrastinating on lunch)

Alice laughed. ‘There’s no use trying,’ she said ‘one can’t believe impossible things.’

‘I daresay you haven’t had much practice,’ said the Queen. ‘When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast…’

–Lewis Carroll, “Through the Looking Glass”

1. Got up before Guppy and G. Grod
2. Got dressed by myself, without Drake and Guppy’s “help”
3. Found yoga mat where Drake had “helped” by putting it away
4. Rode bike 1 mile to gym
5. Practiced yoga
6. Rode bike 1 mile home

When I lived by myself after college, I had few belongings, and I cleaned my apartment weekly. It was usually both tidy and clean.

After I married, I cleaned bi-weekly, and usually kept things tidy.

After I had my first child, and after the first sleep-deprived, bewildering months, I cleaned about once a month, and had trouble keeping things tidy in our small apartment. The influx of baby clothes and toys made things more difficult. Our place was mostly clean, but cluttered.

After I got pregnant with a second child, things really went south. Cleaning fell to the bottom of the priority list. We’d moved into a two-story house with a finished basement. While we didn’t have a lot of square feet, it was still double what we’d had before. We had more clothes, and more toys. We’d accumulated more things, since we had more space to put it in. Our house was neither clean nor tidy.

After I was diagnosed with post-partum depression, my sister Sydney kindly offered to help by paying for a cleaning service. I gratefully accepted, though I was stricken with guilt. Shouldn’t I clean my own house? But since I was struggling inwardly with my emotions and outwardly with parenting, I decided to accept whatever help was offered, and try NOT to feel guilty about it.

Then, as my depression lessened with treatment, my guilt crept back. Shouldn’t I be able to clean my own house? Especially since I now would have a few days to myself with the boys at daycare? I decided to have someone in once more, and see how it went.

It went beautifully. She cleaned while I organized. I got around to projects I’d put off for years. I realized why I’m so bad at cleaning my own house: I can’t just clean. I stop to put things away, or I do laundry AND clean, or I slow down when I have to figure out what to do with something. The benefit of having someone else clean was I could set the priorities (bathrooms, then kitchen floor, then dusting, then vacuuming) and she did them efficiently in that order. She had no connection to what was in her way. I could spend time on the things that usually interrupt my attempts to clean while she cleaned. It was a good combination.

I still feel unreasonably guilty that I am not able to cook, clean, read, write, and care for the boys even if just part time. But seeing that it’s a tandem working relationship, with me organizing while someone else cleans, feels like a much better, and healthier, interpretation.

During my recent Arizona vacation, I had the opportunity to ride a cute pink bike that belonged to my friend Becca . I bought a cute pink helmet and I got on a bike for the first time in over fifteen years.

I enjoyed it so much I visited Behind Bars Bicycle Shop with my husband when I got back to Minnesota, and I got a cute bike of my own. G. Grod has been giving Behind Bars much of our disposable income since last year when he bought a bike and began commuting the 13 miles each way to work a few times a week, though not during winter (Nov. to Apr., approximately).

Our family now has four regular vehicles: a Nissan Maxima, a Mountain Buggy Urban Double stroller, G’s bike (a Redline 925) and my new bike, a yellow Sun Retro Aluminum Cruiser. Our one-car life is working out even better now that I have wheels of my own.

I recently took a three-week vacation. My sons Drake and Guppy stayed with G. Grod’s kind, brave parents. I went to an Arizona spa for a week, spent a weekend with a friend and her sister, then the remainder of the week on my own in their AZ condo, and returned to MN for a week with G., sans kids. It was part of my recovery process from the depression I became mired in after Guppy was born, sixteen months ago.

Both during and after this vacation, I felt more balanced, happy, and possessed of clear insight than I have ever in my life. This vacation was life changing.

Three Things:

1. I was burned out after three years as a full-time caregiver, first for Drake, and later with Guppy.

2. I became burned out as a full-time caregiver because I am

a. Introverted: small children have many needs, which don’t allow for much down time.
b. Irritible: small children scream, fight, and defecate frequently. It may be normal, but I still find it irritating.
c. Intellectual: caring full-time for small children leaves little time for my own intellectual pursuits, though my book and movie challenges remind me to keep trying.

3. Finding balance involves no longer being the full-time caregiver for my kids. We are trying a nearby 3-day-a-week home daycare that is off to a promising start. This will allow me quiet time to pursue work in writing and teaching. It also enables me to better enjoy the time I do have with my family.

Since I’ve been back we’ve played more, laughed more, and hugged more. There has been far less frustration and yelling on everyone’s part. The time away, which some might view as selfish and overlong, has had an enormous positive impact on all of us.

One of many insights from my recent vacation:

There will ALWAYS be too much to do.

Choose not to. Instead, be. Spend a day a week (why not Sunday?) trying NOT to do tasks. Instead, read, rest, nap, play, think, laugh, love.

The to-do stuff will be there on Monday, and I’ll be more willing to wade into the fray if I’ve given myself a break.

(With a nod of thanks to M. at Mental Multivitamin, who often expresses this sentiment in different ways.)

Having the time to check Arts & Letters Daily, click through to the stories that interest me, read them from beginning to end, then quote the parts I like here.

Having the time, or taking the time, to read and think is something I value, and try to cultivate. Parenthood is not an excuse to give up learning. Instead, it can be a reminder to keep trying.

which have become so difficult with two small children around that they FEEL like luxuries.

1. Eating when I’m hungry. Drinking enough water.
2. Going to the bathroom whenever I want. With the door open. Alone.
3. Phoning family. Giving attention only to the phone call.
4. Going to sleep when I’m merely tired. Getting up when I no longer am.
5. Drinking coffee WHILE IT’S STILL HOT! Freely eating a biscotti, or strudel, or toaster pastry.

Hello, gentle readers. I was unplugged last week getting some serious R, R, R, and R: rest, relaxation, rejuvenation, and reading. What a difference it’s made. I think we all need extended down time periodically, but life as we know it doesn’t tend to support or encourage it. There’s always family to visit, and why don’t we take a short trip here, and this and that, and then the vacation time is gone. I would’ve benefited from a week away after I weaned Drake and we moved, yet instead I’ve been doing full-time childcare for about three years, now. This break was better late than never, and I’m enjoying every moment, and appreciating it as if it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity (though I’m hoping it’s not). Last week I didn’t feel like writing anywhere but in my journal or on a postcard; I didn’t turn on my computer at all. This week I’m hoping to ease back in, first on the blog and then onto the creative stuff. I’m excited to get back to blogging.

A few more ideas occurred to me that might make good gifts for the moms in your life.

Noise Reducing Headphones Not for walking out on the street, but oh, wouldn’t these be nice at home?

Nice Watch So Mom can take off the battered, bathproof Timex that keeps track of timeouts and falling-asleep intervals. My husband and I are fans of Nixon watches, which they sell locally at Lava Lounge.

Teapot and Loose-Leaf Tea Twin Cities treasure Tea Source ships! They carry single-person pots that hold enough water for about two and a half cups. The House Earl Grey is wonderful; I get raves every time I serve it. I also like their herbal tisanes (see their informative site to find out why herbal “teas” aren’t really tea). My longtime favorite is Evening in Missoula. I also like Starfire Licorice, Margaret’s Soother, and Earl Red.