Category: Love


Will you come to me…incarnate in the body of a willow tree

Filed under: Art & Literature, Being Mom, Love, poetry, Time Management, Travel, Work — Leave a comment
March 27, 2014

I want to write more about my vacation, but today was an exceptionally good day, and rather than write about the then, I’d prefer to gush about the now.

I’ve been struggling lately. I mean…I’ve actually been struggling for awhile, but I do a pretty good job of managing my own personal struggles I think (I hope!) – but lately I’ve been struggling in a positive way – overcoming, is the word. I’ve been overcoming some of the residual imprints of struggling.

Overcoming seems to involve a lot of self-reflection. A lot of heavily guarded alone time. Sometimes to an extent where I wonder if it might be unhealthy for me to spend so much time alone, without really desiring the company of anyone else in particular. Not that I don’t love and adore my friends and loved ones…it’s just lately I seem to adore spending time by myself an awful lot more.

I sometimes worry that I don’t have the ability to deal with ever surrendering any tiny scrap of my autonomy to be in a relationship with another person…but I’m too busy not caring to worry about that for very long. Though I do have a corollary worry that my inability to surrender any tiny scrap of my autonomy will cause me to end up being bitterly alone when I’m too old to find someone who wants to surrender a tiny scrap of their autonomy for me.

Who knows. Maybe it’s just a phase.

What I haven’t been struggling with lately is being ridiculously appreciative of the gentle rhythm of my days, which is possibly WHY I’m feeling reluctant to risk losing control over them. I notice that I really seem to enjoy my job on a soul-nourishing level. It’s nice to help people all day. To be able to talk to them as a human being and solve their technical issues. I really enjoy people treating me like an authority on something. One of the first things I had to learn to do to succeed at my job was to eliminate my tendency towards humility when helping people with technology. I’m used to approaching people in an exploratory way, which works pretty good for training, but generally when you are calling tech support, you want someone to be a bit more authoritative. I’m really enjoying mixing both so I don’t come across as a know-it-all and intimidate people who just need a little nurturing. It’s actually not a bad way to spend 10 hours a day.

I’m also really happy with the habits I’ve formed around preparing and eating healthy, homemade meals all week, reading, getting some sort of exercise, and writing in my journal every day. It’s been awesome to have time to spend on myself. And while I have had weeks of getting sucked in to one TV series or another (most recently, Eureka, which actually gave me some of the most amazing dreams and, in spite of the fact that it was a pretty damn cheesy show (or maybe because of that) has me mourning the little world I lived in with all of those characters for a month or so.

I guess this is all sort of related to my vacation, because part of all of this is the fact that I’ve also been able to travel more – take more road trips – get out of town more. It’s something I feel I’ve been somewhat deprived of over the past few years. It’s really nice to be able to pick up and leave town for a bit. The endless rhythm of the tires on asphalt with trees and signs and other cars whishing by. The places my mind goes when there’s endless novel monotony all around me. My face focused forward, but watching the world peel by on either side. Tracking time by moon and sun and moon again. Driving. Driving. Driving. Being driven.

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Under your skin…Over your eyes…

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February 21, 2014
unruly

Photo by John Jack Anderson

 

Name Change. Because I accidentally typed “unruly mom” in an email, instead of “unruly mob”…and, miracle of miracles, for some reason no one has ever thought to snatch up the domain name unrulymom.com until now.

I mean – it RHYMES *and* it’s a play on words.

So, that was something that made me happy after a rough couple of days.

I want to say things about love and friendship and how complicated it is to deal with conflicting feelings about depression and suicide.

Instead, I think I’ll just say a few words about family. Or, interchangeably to me, Community. Family is a concept I have struggled with all my life. I come from a large family, but they are not all my Community. It is an oddly mismatched group of people with a somewhat similar upbringing. As the youngest, I don’t feel like I ever really got to know my eldest family members all that well. As the half-sibling to all of my 6 siblings (3 with the same monther, 3 with the same father) I’ve always felt like both the outsider and the tie that binds.  Though I do remain in touch with some of my immediate family members, for whatever reason I’ve never been connected to my extended blood relatives. This could be why I spent much of my adolescence (and beyond) cultivating relationships that imitated family.

Now that I have children of my own, my lack of a solid connection with my larger family disturbs me. I worry my children have inherited this disconnection by default. I do my best to encourage them to be conscious of their connections, but I haven’t set a very good example, and I’m not much of a “do what I say, not what I do” kind of parent. So I try to compensate by committing to my Communities in a way that some people commit themselves to their families

To me, family is about staying connected to people even if you screw up. It’s about second chances, asking for forgiveness and fully expecting to be forgiving. It’s about being forced to learn to get along with people who might not agree with you, and being patient when you don’t agree with them. Sometimes it’s about setting boundaries and enforcing them. Sometimes it’s about giving in.

Today, I’m reminding myself that even family members make mistakes. Even familial love has its limits. Sometimes people need more than their immediate family. Sometimes they need an entire community. And sometimes it takes an extreme circumstance for family OR community to respond to the needs of its meekest members. Sometimes it’s just impossible to know thin the rope is until someone is hanging by the last strand.

I’m very glad I don’t have to talk about one specific family member in the past tense. I’m once again in awe of this community I have haphazardly become part of. A community that responds to a cry for help by organizing a people-powered dragnet to comb the city and rescue one of their own. A community that responds to a loss of hope by fully reinforcing the reason why we should have hope in the first place. A community of people who arrive in the nick of time. Maybe not precisely when we want them, but time and time again I see my community members…my Brothers and Sisters…get there EXACTLY when they are NEEDED.

This world is a scary place. I’ve lost too many loved ones to despair, and I don’t really care to lose more, though I certainly understand how one would get there. Today my brothers and sisters have restored my faith and hope in family and community – and the necessity of both. Thank you for providing the best of both worlds as an example for my children. Thank you for providing such a wonderful example of mutual aid and selflessness to anyone fortunate enough to witness it. ❤

 

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Wish you were here…

Filed under: Art & Literature, Love, Politics — Leave a comment
February 9, 2014

Me: The birds look like apostrophes

Him: What are the words if the birds are apostrophes?

Several of us gathered today to say goodbye to a friend who passed away. We met at City Hall, where most of us originally entered one another’s lives. And we walked together to the tree on the other side of the river on which little medallions were pinned to mark the deaths of  others who, like our friend Chris, were houseless but not without friends in life or in death.

Several people told stories of their friendship with Chris. Universally, we agreed he was a gentle man. A quiet man. A man who forced us to slow down and think. And rethink. And as I listened, I realized I was not only mourning the loss of Chris, but also the loss of that time. That time when we all gathered several times a week to slow down, sit down…and talk. And listen. And plan together. And just to gather with a group of people from disparate backgrounds and experiences – a group of people who, under normal circumstances, might never get a chance to meet – and become aware of each other as fellow humans…and struggle together. And learn from each other. And totally fuck up in the presence of each other. And forgive each other. And try again.

I didn’t tell any stories today. Today, I listened. The truth is, I didn’t have a lot of stories to tell about Chris. I cared about him. I tried to look out for him the best I could. I respected his growth and his journey. I remember him.  I will miss him. But it’s not enough to miss someone like Chris. It’s not enough to mourn and be sad and go on living and forgetting all that I have learned through my friendship with Chris, and through all of the other unlikely companions I’ve been blessed to come to know over the past few years. There were so many lessons learned. So many I forgot. It’s time to remember them now. It’s time to come out of hibernation and be present in the world again, and open to listening and sharing and relating.

The things I have learned as an occupier are lessons I have needed to learn my whole life. And I’m not merely talking about social and economic justice. I’m talking about taking the time to really see people. To see AND hear them. Taking the time to be present in public spaces and share with people. I don’t think I’m done learning those lessons yet. I don’t think I’ve learned them well enough, and I think they are too easily forgotten. I still have a too-frequent tendency to hide myself away. To hurry from one thing to the next without stopping and giving time to appreciate the unexpected. I still frequently neglect the things that are most important while freely frittering time on things that have no soul-nutritional value.

This is how I know that Occupy is not dead. Because we haven’t learned these lessons yet. We are too easily distracted and divided. And until we can learn to come together and be present, we will continue to Occupy where we should be Living.

Rest in Peace, dear Chris. I hardly knew you, but I certainly loved you. In honor of your memory, I plan to spend at least an hour every Sunday occupying the steps of City Hall with my sketchbook and journal. People watching, and hopefully conversing. Maybe I’ll bring a sign…maybe I’ll go incognito. It’s not 3 General Assemblies a day, every day…but it’s something. Maybe I’ll see you there.

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Tenderly you turn the light off in your room

Filed under: Art & Literature, Being Mom, Love, Musicness, poetry, Time Management — Leave a comment
January 18, 2014

Today’s Mantra, while taking my second Eucalyptus-infused shower in less than 24 hours in hopes of clearing my allergy-ridden nose:

Ritual abandon, chaotically enacted with surgical precision.

I am engaging in a project-based mini, semi-vacation within a tiny bit more of a vacation. Otherwise Known As 24 entire hours (plus!) without having to be in the presence of another human being. But my time is drawing to a close. Soon, ruckus will once again descend upon the house, but it will dissipate and a quieter ruckus will ensue. And just that near silent-hum that exists as a background noise whenever there is another person in the house with you, capable of interrupting the quiet at any given moment. Most of a time that is a pleasent hum. Sometime – it’s just nice to muffle it for a day.

I spent my time well. Forced, as I was, to succumb to a mostly horizontal plane of existence due to aforementioned leaky nose and the irresistible allure of lethargy. I’ve been organizing my data. Pushing around bits and bytes from one storage format to another. Sifting through images, music, writing – things of my past that have been stored in various formats throughout my life. Organizing it. Analyzing it. Contemplating it. This life in pixels.

I create systems while I work. Systems of efficiency. Systems of reward. Systems to prevent me from becoming bored. And, while working, I watch – or listen – or create in between bouts of “productivity.” Appreciating the progress. Enjoying the process. Knowing there is a beginning, middle, and forseeable end to this project…makes for a very satisfying few days of laze and precious solitudinous haze.

What are you waiting for?

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Never Stop Fighting.

Filed under: Art & Literature, Being Mom, Love, Musicness, Nerdgasm, poetry — Leave a comment
January 7, 2014

Dispatches from old journals – various years and locations in the January New Year/Birthdayish time frame…

“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.” -e. e. cummings

***

Him: Are you still in love with the universe?

Me: Quite

Him: I think you are in love with ME.

Me: You ARE part of the universe

Last night, I dreamed about a zombie apocalypse. Lots of running & hiding. I found J in my dream, and we teamed up and found a way out.

I called J today to tell him. He thought it was funny. What I didn’t tell him is that we made out in the dream. Towards the end, I remember what his kisses felt like. They were hard and thin of lip.

Discuss, discuss, DIS-GUS. Discusting.

I’m living in an alternate reality. An alternating duality, fresh from free modality. Sensitive in its design, by nature. Designed. Maligned by creature comforted by none. Rewire. Rewire. Retire.

So chaos comes rolling in. Roiling. A haphazard retrofit toiling. Group gorilla going. Left hand albatross flowing. Supine supine never mind realign.

I am crossing over, crossing back. Redesigning, keeping slack. Semi-automatic, semiotic plague. Plaguing me. Reprobating me. <Sending Leave intimidating me.> I am rock, flowing, water. I am rock of disaster. I am missed opportunity. I am endless hegemony. Instituting harmony. Refill refine ignominy. Endless ever after.

This journey I have traveled. Will require. Will require. Will require…and equation. Forming mandibled collusion. Replace heaven with contusion. Inevitable confusion.

Pistachios in bed and Cherry Dr. Pepper. My hands are covered w/eggplant paint. I can’t figure out what’s wrong with my toilet. And it’s a new year. I hope it’s a good one.

“I’m in love with my walls” -Lester Bangs

He said one day all the walls will fall & it will be just us.

One day all the walls will fall & it will be justice.

~One day. Falling walls. Just us.~

One. Falling Us.

Just Us.

Justice.

Us.

The 1st hr of my

kid & housemate independence,

I made a plan to be productive

The 2nd hour was spent buying

“supplies”

Which began w/organizing

furniture and ended

in potato chips & soda pop

The 3rd hour was spent

laughing w/a friend

The 4th spent @ home

eating an extra cheesy

grilled chz sandwich

and watching yesterday’s

PBS News Hour,

and writing in my journal

in sharpie marker

w/out first having had to

tell anyone, “I’m writing in

my journal…please don’t

disturb me

for 30 minutes

and retreating to my

room

And locking the door

And flopping on the bed

And beginning to write

And…

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

*MOM!!!!*

(being interrupted.)

I scratch daily words on paper. How trite to describe my life the way I have. A million pages of reverie – just to see what sticks. Last year was the year of meta. The overarching. Sans details, nuances tell a story. This year will be the year of micro vs. macro. I will take small things. I will practice the art of magnification. I can’t be contained.

The thing is

that it is such a

long rope

and such a

velvet noose

You don’t even realize

you are choking

until you are

well, well, well, well

Hung.

****

I know what I want for my birthday and I will never get it and the worst thing is that it’s probably best that I not.

***

The way the world turns bokeh when I’m lying in bed staring at a sunlit tree until it breaks down to the smallest elements. Dots and lines and bark and vibrations.

***

My boyfriend knows the Dewey Decimal system. He tells me to stop watching television and go to the library. He says to go to the 811 section & find a random book of poetry. He recites to me with sweet voice and joy-brimmed eyes while his strong hands bring me to the edges of lucidity.

***

There’s something about the deconstruction and the reconstruction. The pulling things apart, re-mapping, and putting back together. My mind wants to hurry through process and get to product as quickly as possible. Counting minutes even still as the days linger into one another, leaning casually back into the day before as they tiptoe forward.

***

“Sociability is a big smile, and a big smile is nothing but teeth.” -Jack Kerouac

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Winter’s Bayonet Runs Through It All

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December 28, 2013

IMG_0464

I create to show appreciation for all of the beauty that surrounds me.

I create to rebel against that which is ugly.

I create to practice presence. To slow down and enlarge that which is too fast or too small. To speed up and reduce that which is too small or too complex.

I create in hopes of leaving a piece of myself behind that means something to someone.

I create because I’m bored.

I create because I can’t help myself.

I create because I’m in love with my life, and I want to share it with others.

I create because I am creative.

I create.

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Santa Claus Died For Your Sins

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December 23, 2013

Had a lovely few days off there. Really took lots and lots of time to just relax, slowly accomplishing in the most inefficient way possible. Luxuriating in time and (mostly) solitude. Oh, it was great. And so very apparently exactly what I needed.

I spent some time setting my intentions for the new year, and thinking about where I was last year. I have a lot of things to be thankful for. Last year I was stressed out about my job – knowing I would probably be getting laid off soon, and not feeling like I had a lot of control over it. And, really, not feeling very happy in the role. I found myself fondly remembering my days at Kinko’s because at least there I had a sense of camaraderie among my co-workers & relatively little spite and competition. I craved a kind of teamwork in my workplace that I wasn’t getting where I was. And though my layoff was way more sudden and unexpected than I expected, I was almost instantly relieved to be ending that phase of my life, and I was lucky enough to  have another job that I was pretty certain I would get, with that glorious 2 month cushion of funemployment. I’m so thankful that unemployment for me wasn’t a neverending ordeal, as it is for so many very qualified people in the workforce. And at the end of it all, I now have a job that, yes, pays less – but saves so much more in so many other ways. Mostly just preserving my creative energy for things that matter. I have more time now, without a commute or other necessary components of leaving the house for work. I’m here for the kids, whether any of us like it or not (hahaha), and eating lunch from home means less convenience foods and more cooking for me. It’s truly been a blessing for me. I read for at least an hour a day most days. I NEVER had time for reading before this year. Or I never made time.

In the coming year, I want to continue to read daily, and to also spend more time writing and creating. I want to continue to be sure my worklife doesn’t envelope my non-work life. I want to live as modestly as possible and enjoy the lack of stress for awhile, and to not be in a huge hurry to seek out promotions and advancements Pacing, pacing, pacing. Gaining something almost always requires that you lose something else. Be sure to weight the loss with the gain.

I’m also really happy about how well the kids handled the transitions this year. This time last year, I was forced to concede to put the Tao of Bird into public school, in spite of the fact that he’d been homeschooled since birth. It was agreed to allow Buddha the Grouch to continue to homeschool, but the plan has always been for him to take dual-credit courses. Though it was very frustrating to have my choices for the children, not to mention the hard work I have put into ensuring they had an enriching learning environment here at home, drawn into question in spite of the fact that the boys are academically successful in every. single. measurable. way. – I’m so very proud of both of my boys for continuing to make adjustments to accommodate the things we are unable to control. I’m incredibly thankful for those two resilient, strong, and intelligent young men.

13 years ago or so, after I gave birth to the Tao of Bird, my ex asked me if I regretted that I didn’t have any girls. I looked him straight in the eyes and I said “No. I really think the universe is trying to correct something here.”

So far…knock on wood…I feel like that is likely the case.

In the coming year, I want to continue to give both of the boys the space to become who they will be, and trust that they have the tools to become great men. To accept that they won’t always do things the way I want them to do them, and they might actually even fail at something. Or maybe even their definitions of failure might differ from mine, and I should allow them to be the judges of their own success.

I’ve met some amazing people this year. And while the circumstances that brought us all together weren’t always very happy, my life has been greatly enriched by the acquaintances – nascent and ongoing, brief and long-lasting alike. I’m proud of and grateful for a community of people who continue to struggle to achieve social justice.

In the coming year, I would like to continue to meet amazing superheroes. ❤ And to nurture my relationships with those I already know. As well as, always, taking good care of myself and making sure I have enough time to recharge in precious solitude.

Tangible goals are no fun, but I have some this year: at least 3 issues of the zine – perhaps distributed digitally. That’s the only one I have, or at least the only one I have quantified. I should probably set some other goals, but the zine one is the only one that sounds remotely fun, so I’ll just ignore the other ones. For now.

Other goals: Srsly…I want to learn to play an instrument (damnit) – but I don’t know how I will fit that in; Continue walking daily – maybe even more than I am now; REALLY NEED A GOOD ROAD TRIP – MAYBE IN THE SUMMER…MAAAAAAAYBE SPRING BREAK; continue weekly cooking/family dinner night; plz I can have a decent garden this year…

❤

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REVISED: If I had my time again / I would do it all the same / And not change a single thing / Even when I was to blame

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December 10, 2013

vagabonds,
I love you
free,
far from the shotgun and the cage,
fugitive
corollas,
this is the way
I love you,
ungraspable
Pable Neruda

This day, last year. Out of my head. I posted an ad on Craigslist that read: Looking for a wacky sidekick. Please don’t send a picture of your dick.

Amidst the dozens of dick pics, this:

How are you at zen gardening?  Can you sing? Pelt windows with pebbles?What do you typically wear on a camping trip?

Reason I ask is, if your going to be someones sidekick, ya got to know a few things. How to stitch a mexican wrestling mask, where to find 4 pints of o negative at 5 am, ( $126), how to palm and dupe a key with a cut of soft soap and a pocket knife, the proper care and feeding of a pony, chords and lyrics for several mariachi songs, the proper steps for chanoyu of how to count the numer of intersections crossed while riding blindfolded in the trunk of a cat, how to sharpen a lance, repair windmill damage, to drink from the very belly button of life….to be; that belly button

Star gazing.

Delighted, I replied:

At this point in time, I’m not incredibly adept at zen anything. I can sing if you have earplugs, and that won’t stop me if I like you enough. I prefer to leave windows alone, they never did anything to me. I typically wear pajamas on any trip, as much as possible. I’ll leave the stitching and the blood finding to you, but I do know how to care for a pony. Can you teach me to play the ukelele? I’ve never been in the trunk of a cat before. What’s that like? Windmills, like windows, are best left unmolested. I prefer to drink from dimples, and be drunk from

Star gazing.
And so on…leading to a night of post-curfew park-invading as a first date. A solstice spent alternating shivering, skygazing, and sexing in crystalline campsite air. Valentine’s day poetry reading..and the longest shortest most dynamic relationship I’ve ever had. A blessing and a curse. A wonder and a catastrophe. It was surprise foot rubs in restaurants and jail support, library love letter scavenger hunts (Tucked in among Neruda’s “Ode to Birdwatching” (“from a throat (of time) smaller than a finger”)) and midnight manic bedroom Karaoke and millions of ADD conversations, the day we agreed to say nothing, and the night you made me read Grapes of Wrath (“I didn’t tell you you could stop.”) while you leafed through my pages, hikes in woods and amazement and dread. Overwhelming, but ultimately tragic. With an ending so abrupt I got whiplash, though months later I was thankful for the clean break. Knowing now what I didn’t know then. I was spared the gory details. I got the beauty and the light. The dimple and the bellybutton. I got windows pelted with pebbles. I got a true wacky sidekick.
Or maybe I was the wacky sidekick.
Either way, I still think of him fondly, even though I never learned to play mandolin or ukulele.
Happy anniversary to the one that (thankfully) got away. Thanks…for everything.
Love,
Yr innie.
***This story deserves a rewrite, or at least an addendum. More than sidekick, more like kick in the side, the unwritten/unridden tide. The love of my life in the blink of an eye. All the words you said to me flash back like back lash like climbing to the top of that hill, in the days I had to remind myself of your gentle reassurance as a pinch to be sure this was real. It was real, right? Because of, or in spite. Your two wrongs made us not right (I’ll stop myself before I use the word “delight.”) Our orchestra became lullabye became jazz became dirge, with middle of the night ecxtatic crescendos throughout. It was the runaway train of my existence. Proving once and for all that eternity has its place. Prompting me to write:

Usually my relationships die like Elvis

on the toilet.

This one

Kurt Cobained – offing itself

before it had a chance to become what it swore it never would be.

***

…I still miss him, but I’m glad he’s gone.

 
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Giving Thanks: My Holiday Shopping Guide

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December 1, 2013

UPDATE:

I’m sure there will be multiple updates to this guide, so I’m going to put them on top so you can see them quickly…

I can’t believe I forgot to mention the perennial Mama Calendar. Coleen does this calendar every year, and it is always amazing. Here’s her info:

How to order your Mama Calendar: Send $12 by paypal or US mail to: the mama calendar coleen murphy coleen@bust.com
Only $10 if you track me down to get it in person! Also $10 a piece for orders of ten or more. Email for mailing address if you need to pay by check.

I also just stumbled upon this amazing artist on Tumblr. His paintings make me happy, and I love that he makes greeting cards, as well: http://www.etsy.com/shop/jonshawpaintings

***

Below is the original post…

****

I watch a minimal amount of television. I don’t have cable, and I watch maybe 1 or 2 guilty pleasure shows regularly. But even with that, I’ve already seen enough “buy buy buy buy buy” commercials that I seriously would like to vomit. Maybe that makes me a grinch. Maybe it’s passe to talk about consumerism and greed over the holidays. Maybe my kids will be in therapy forever because I have, over the years, slowly dialed back the gift giving and traditional holiday celebrating to almost zero. Maybe the real way to show someone you care about them is to brave the crowds on black Friday and give an underpaid Wal-Mart worker something to do on the day after Thanksgiving. I don’t know.

What I DO know is I have a ton of very talented friends and relations who make shit. So, I feel like if you really would like to buy something for someone over the holidays – why not put your consumer dollars directly into the hands of an original artist or craftsperson. Yeah yeah. I know you are broke and handmade shit costs more…but maybe you buy too much, anyway. Maybe forcing yourself to buy something more expensive, and less of it, will help your family value what they *do* get more. I dunno. I don’t think my kids are particularly more evolved than anyone else just because they don’t get a bunch of crap from me over the holidays. And probably this year I won’t end up getting anything except things they really need. But in case you are interested in keeping your holiday dollars in the art/craft economy, here are some suggestions for you. ❤

In no particular order:

Linger Bath and Body: Amber makes some of the best soaps I have ever had the pleasure to use. They retain their fragrance through the whole bar, and she has tons of really great “flavors.” I always keep extra bars on hand for when I have guests, so they think I’m all fancy and shit. And I have my own special bar in the shower that the kids aren’t allowed to use.

***

My friend Pam makes the most delicious jams ever. She started sending them as holiday gifts a few years ago, and Tao of Bird would eat them all up before I had much of a chance. When I finally did manage to sneak some onto a piece of toast, I was blown away. So much yum, with unique flavors that go on forever, and ALL proceeds go to bull terrier rescue! Can’t beat that! Here’s what Pam has to say about her Jams:

Kick out the jams!!! And help some awesome li’l doggies along the way. All of my jams, dessert sauces, and mustard are loving made in my very clean but not-government-conforming personal kitchen. All fruit was sourced from one of three small farms — Hardin Farms in Eau Claire, Michigan, the Stella Gardens organic co-op in East Troy, Wisconsin, or the Fickau family orchard in Mukwonago, WI. All liquor used was purchased at a small family business. Flavors range from traditional to mad scientist.

Generally, my stuff comes in 4oz jars, BUT I have a limited number of 8oz jars available. Just ask. Small jars are $5 each, or 3 for $12, or 5 for $20. Large jars are $8. I also have a very, very limited number of Roma tomato quarts for $15 each — they taste just like summer!

Shipping is on you — if you don’t want to use a flat rate box (ideal if you are getting more than one, cuz these are in glass jars), I will let you know the actual shipping cost.

100% of the proceeds go to the Fort Dearborn Bull Terrier Rescue organization. Yes, 100%. So, if you buy five jams, the rescue gets that $20. This way we all get to give a little something to someone

Questions or whatnot, contact me at jamming4bullies@gmail.com

If you’re interested in a fancy gift basket, let me know and I’ll get my crafty mom on it!

***

I met Colin Mullin when he started organizing weekly sign-making workshops for Occupy Austin. Now he’s selling prints of some of his beautiful artwork on his website: http://www.colinmullin.com/index.html

***

kellyhoganfinalposter

Art by Dan Grzeca

I’m really proud of all of the zinesters I’ve known in my life who have grown up to become independent artists. Of the printmaking variety, Dan Grzeca is probably one of the most prolific. He does amazing works with animal/wooden building themes, and much more. You can check out his prints here: http://groundup.bigcartel.com/

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HappyMakerTreats – Pansy is basically a genius of all things, but she’s especially a genius at making delicious cookies. She can adapt recipes to satisfy any dietary restrictions you might have, and everything she does tastes awesome. I know at least one person who will be getting some Happy Maker Treats this month! You should also indulge! She also makes and sells aprons.

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My friend Jessica recently started making organic merino wool tube socks! Super comfy, soft, and warm! Also, she is doing organic cloth diapers and wool diaper covers on a word of mouth order basis. Contact her at: ohdearjessica@gmail.com, or at http://www.littlefawnorganics.com for diapers.

art by John Porcellino

art by John Porcellino

I’ve known John Porcellino since we both lived in the Chicago area, publishing zines. John was one of the very first local zinesters I knew, and gave me the die-cast bulldozer that became the basis for my tattoo. I’m so glad that John P is still creating and publishing his comic book King Cat Comics and Stories. There are none like him. His books make me happy to be alive. ❤ You can find his comics and other merchandise here: http://www.johnporcellino.blogspot.com/p/buy-comix.html

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Ally Shaw is another zine friend of mine from way back. She now resides in England, and makes the coolest jewelry! I’m vowing this year will be the year that I buy something from her awesome Etsy shop: http://www.etsy.com/shop/feralstrumpet

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Yet another zine friend who I used to live with in Chicago, Andy Lowry now creates one-of-a-kind decorative home goods. I need to vow to get one of her awesome custom serving trays this year, as well! Check out her website here: http://www.whygirlsgoastray.com.

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Beth Winegarner grew up in the zine world, too. (How awesome is it that zines nurtured so many artistic people into lifelong careers in creative fields!)  Now she’s a journalist, writing books about important topics like this one: http://www.bethwinegarner.com/the-columbine-effect/

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Check out Sarah’s awesome jewelry at her website here: http://www.worldonastring.us/

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Tracie is just getting started creating natural bodycare products under the business name Teabody Naturals. So far, she only has a Facebook Page, but keep your eye out for more information, or email here to find out what she has available: tracie@teabodynaturals.com

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How to describe Imagine? He’s the wonderful child of a friend I made through the internet at the height of hipmama days. Imagine makes incredible Lego designs, and you can find his book here: http://www.blurb.com/b/4566814-imagine-designs. He’s such an awesome kid.

Entrust-460x600Ray Maseman (aka Raymond) is another awesome printmaker. I keep typing things about Raymond’s artwork and it just sounds so silly to describe it, I’m erasing. Whimsical? Silly? Fantastic? All adjectives sound really trite. I think my favorite concept in Raymond’s art is the penguin in a bird-shaped flying machine. That pretty much describes how I feel about all of Raymond’s artwork. It’s like a penguin in a bird-shaped flying machine…or a giraffe in a boat. You can find greeting cards here: http://www.cafepress.com/raymaseman, various cards and merchandise here: http://www.zazzle.com/maseman, and prints here: http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&page=1&rh=n%3A6685299011%2Cp_lbr_three_browse-bin%3ARay%20Maseman

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In addition to my friends who make cool stuff, here are some other suggestions for non-commercial gift giving:

From my friend Karen: My sister makes amazing things, she is hauling her lot to a craft show this weekend but said next week her ebay store will be stocked up. She creates steam punk sculptures, repurposed books, cute stuffed critters along with original paintings and drawings. Her ebay name is pleasant_surprise

Bliss Point Cupcakes: https://m.facebook.com/blisspointcupcakes?ref=stream&_ft_&_rdr

Upcycled goods: http://adaptivereuser.com/home.html

Feel free to make your own suggestions in comments. Independent makers only, please!

P.S. I almost forgot about meeeeee! I will be putting out a new zine this year, as well as postcards. I’m currently doing a fundraiser, and taking pre-orders through that fundraiser. Please help fund my zine and zine library this year. ❤ Thank you. Here’s the link: https://www.wepay.com/donations/oyster-lexicon-zine-and-crustacean-zine-library-fundraiser

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We Zig and Zag Between Good and Bad…

Filed under: Being Mom, Love, Nerdgasm, Politics — Leave a comment
November 26, 2013

This post might meander a bit. I’m feeling meandery.

First – I composed this post in my head sort of. I haven’t done that in awhile. Remembering when blogging was new and I was sort of obsessed with it, and maybe just maybe the blog might have taken the place of the companionship that was missing in my marriage, because I remember very clearly thinking in blog posts as though I was thinking of clever ways to communicate a story to my lover, or my best friend, or my husband. It would be nice to regain that a bit. Writing to the muse – being the conglomerate of all of the inspiring people I have in my life, and my desire to offer inspiration and hopefully BE inspiring.

But I was composing a post in my head in the car driving home from a friend’s house. Because my head was still buzzing with thoughts sparked by our conversation.

There’s this awesome part about parenting where you sort of get to remember how you unfolded as your children unfold before your eyes. When they reach that age that you remember was integral to you becoming who you are, which was, apparently for me, probably between the ages of 16 and 17. And while my eldest son is a completely different person than the person I was, I respect that he is who he is. And even though I’d like to mold and change him – even if I could – I need to remember that he’s still unfolding. I can’t force him any more than I was forced. I can only live my life regardless of him, and set whatever example I can set, and accept that he might or might not learn the lessons of my life until/unless they become lessons in his life, too. And just hope that he sees the lessons for what they are before they become “learning experiences.” Hopefully I can pass those lessons along, the important ones. The ones that were difficult for me. And hope that he finds his own difficult lessons to learn, and that he learns from them.

My eldest son. He turns 17 next week. Can you even believe that? 17. As he told me last night, my work is done. He’s already become the person he’s gonna be. I can’t influence him anymore. These things were walked back a bit after further reflection, but in a sense – he’s right. And yet, he’s not done growing. And I’m certainly not done influencing. And as long as he’s alive, he’ll be doing the former; and as long as I’m part of his life, I’ll be doing the latter. Even if from a distance – physically or emotionally. And from what I’m being told, I need to brace myself for some emotional and physical distance from that child. And I need to not take that too personally. And understand. And abide. Which I’m known to be good at for all of the wrong reasons, so I might as well be good at it for the right ones.

I respect that my children have known some degree of tumultuousness in their lives. As does any child of one parent who has a somewhat unconventional way of doing things and another parent who is vastly more conventional. I respect that it must feel like a warzone to those guys. And they are smart. And they are sensitive. But they might both need distance at some point in their lives to decide exactly how they feel about it all. And I have absolutely no control over whatever conclusion they come to. And I feel like I need to accept that, slowly, starting now. Starting sometime last year, actually.

And this all made me think about my own growth through the years, and who I’ve forgiven and what I’ve mended and all I’ve left behind. When I’ve made dumb mistakes, and when I’ve made smart ones. Things I rejected, only to accept and embrace later in life. Things I miss and things I wish I could get rid of. And all of the growth, forgiveness, leaving behind, mistake-making, rejecting, accepting, embracing, missing, and letting go I’ve yet to do.

❤

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The other thing I was thinking about was how absolutely beautiful it was today to meet still more new people doing food distribution to survivors of the Halloween Onion Creek flood. Two women who I hadn’t met were there today. One had worked with the group before, but I hadn’t met her. The other woman was brand new. They were both older than me by probably 10-15 years. The woman who had worked with the group before was telling the new woman “What I love about working with this group is there are no bosses. No one tells anyone what to do. We just show up when we can, figure out what our resources are, work out a plan, and it all comes together.” Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to assume this woman didn’t know she was perfectly expressing the principles of anarchism, but it made me happy, regardless. We live in a world where helping other people in the spirit of empathy and community is a radical act, and yet it instantly makes sense as soon as you participate. The most radical action is the most mundane.

 

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