suddenly, it's real!

I made a little book!

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Wed, 18 Apr 2012 01:36:00 +0000

I made a little book! Writing the tributes to my Uncle Fred and my dad online was really great, but I felt like they needed to be inside something special! I've had a small ream of old yellowing paper in my collection of "Yes I'll take that! I'll find something to do with it....someday!" And indeed this was the perfect project. Pictured is the first 10 of an addition of 20 individual books each printed on vintage paper. Each cover is hand painted on Rives BFK with gouache and watercolor and sewn on the sewing machine. (Thanks Nancy!!!!) Each little book contains the tribute to Uncle Fred (F.N. Wright) and my dad (David Lee), as well as two small "observations" I wrote almost 14 years ago. I enjoyed making these so much, you can bet I will be making more books in the near future. If you would like to have a copy of your own, you can purchase them here! www.wrighthome.etsy.com

L.A. Union Station {1999} and an old painting

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 03:41:00 +0000

LA Union Station {1999}

I sit in an old brown seat.

It's ripped and old yellow stuffing is exposed.

Heavy luggage is at my feet.

I sit here and frown.

It's hot and stuffy

everything is brown, yellow and orange.

Everyone's luggage is on wheels and I hear

chatter, plastic bags and kids.

I think about my dad and uncle fred and wonder

when will I see them again.

I'm tired and lonely.

I stare at people when they walk by,

running by uncomfortable in high heals and too much luggage.

A bunch of people trying to get somewhere else.

An older man walks in my direction and spits in the trash can in the corner.

He sits down in the seat facing me.

He stands up again to spit in the trash can.

He fidgets with his duffle bag.

He's small, has white hair and leathery skin,

wears a blue work shirt, dark jeans and yellowed socks.

His black laced shoes are untied.

With a thick drawled out accent he ask me to watch his bag.

I don't understand his words, but I understand he wants me to watch his bag.

He walks off and a pigeon walks by my feet

inside

looking for food.

A man gets money from a machine.

A boy eats a bag of Cheetos with his mouth open, looking around.

I sneeze and look around.

Men walk fast in business suits and leather bags,

guys swagger with athlete jerseys and backpacks,

kids run in cartoon t-shirts.

An older lady with white hair wears a pink outfit that looks like her skin.

Young girls with long hair, tight jeans and halter tops,

security guards,

men in baseball caps and Nikes.

An Asian woman in a leather skirt and small black heels

bounces when she walks, bobs up and down.

I look at the clock

and sigh.

Empty Mirror spreadin' the love

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 23:00:00 +0000

My tribute to Uncle Fred was published on Empty Mirror today!

canned roast beef

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 01:46:00 +0000

Dad drinks Uncle Fred's Budweiser

and fumbles around in the kitchen
making tacos.
Greg Brown is on the stereo.
Uncle Fred is in his bedroom paying bills.
For a moment dad sings along with the music
and cuts up lettuce.
Motorcycles wind by Mulholland Highway.
Dad uses canned roast beef for his tacos,
and eats them standing at the counter.

Between here and California

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Sun, 18 Mar 2012 02:12:00 +0000

I've been feeling extremely nostalgic lately. I know it's a combination of things and I've always been a pretty nostalgic person. The passing of my Uncle Fred has made me step back, or maybe stumble is a better word. Ben leaving...and even this KONY 2012 stuff. I'm not going to get into it too much, but the scrutiny and now the unfortunate events that have happened in the past few days, have just made my heart want to jump out of my chest. My heart aches for the Russell family. I do believe this world is a beautiful place. I know it is every morning when I look outside and see the sun turning the sky pink through the trees. At dusk when the birds are all chirping at the moon rise and my son is asleep on my bed. I've been fortunate in my life to have family that have suffered through wars and addictions and lay-offs and bad times, but have always remembered to laugh and smile and take one day at a time. Life can be so ugly and painful and at the same time be so breathtakingly beautiful.

I've been yearning for those GE summer baseball games, dance contests and cherry cokes at the American Legion on Friday nights, snow cones and long country drives leading to nowhere with nowhere in particular in mind. I wouldn't even mind one more endless afternoon with my dad and Uncle Fred at the picnic table outside Uncle Fred's trailer. Too many beers and the stories are on repeat and the Wright Brothers are starting to "debate". I'd sit through a few more of those if I could. I've been lost in my memories the past few days. Remembering small meaningless moments that are like precious gems now. I'm collecting them and shining them up and putting them in safe places. Oscar will soon be creating memories and I wonder what they will be.

I sit here typing onto the glowing background of my computer screen and looking at an old photograph of Uncle Fred at his typewriter. I miss just knowing that him and my dad are just a phone call away. I find myself reading comments on Uncle Fred's facebook wall over and over as a comfort. Every "like" equals a hug.

The morning I found out my grandad Charlie passed away I had a dream that will forever be with me. My gramma and grandad were together (gramma passed away a few years before) and moving into a new apartment. Ben and I were visiting and helping them unpack their things. They both looked at us and reminded us that we could come visit anytime. They reminded me that they will always be here when I need them. When my dad passed away, for the first year I kept having dreams that he faked his death and he was actually still alive. A few felt so incredibly real that I would wake up thinking that maybe he was indeed still here, on the road between here and California.

Me and the Devil Blues

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 22:49:00 +0000

Fred Newman Wright 1940-2012

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 01:28:00 +0000

Uncle Fred and I once thought up a name for our dream bookstore. It would be called Tangents. I’ve always thought that would be a perfect name. We would model our bookstore after the one in Hermosa Beach that is no longer there…where he bought all his paperbacks in the early 60’s; Either Or Bookstore. I love finding an old faded construction paper bookmark from Either Or tucked in one of Uncle Fred’s books. It always brings me “back” to a time I only experienced through countless stories. That already makes me want to go off on a tangent. I’ve heard lots of stories about “those days”. Anyway, Tangents. Yes. Very fitting, for the Wright’s are capable of telling some long stories with lots of country roads that eventually circle back around to the beginning. We call that “trickle down” in our family. Telling long stories with plenty of meandering here and there, I’m pretty sure that’s in my DNA. Good spelling and grammar is not.

Uncle Fred stole my “b” (blanket) when I was still sucking my thumb. He was a prankster and at a young age he had my attention. When I was 11 he gave me an assignment to write him a story and we traded stories in the mail. Snail mail; hand written letters stuck in envelopes that you lick and stamps that cost 24 cents. Remember that? When I was 14 and started showing an interest in all things 1960’s, the floodgates were opened and I soon realized how lucky I was to be F.N. Wright’s niece. He called me “nappy joe”. My first trip to California to see him, I was 16. At the time he was dating “Too Tall Tina” and she was living with him. His place was spotless and organized. For those of you that know him, this was a deceptive first visit! I can remember sitting in his yellow chair in the corner and reading the entire “On The Road” in one night. He fed me Patchen, Brautigan,Miller, Ken Kesey and the Pranksters. This was magical stuff and I was hooked.

I would end up going to art school for college. During a semester in New York City I took a poetry class with William Packard at The New School. We had to do a biography on a poet so naturally I chose Kenneth Patchen. Uncle Fred gave me Miriam’s phone number and I got to interview THE Miriam Patchen for my paper. The magic!!!!! You can only imagine how this made me feel. I mailed my final (hand written) copy to Miriam in Palo Alto.

My first year in college I took the train from Chicago to Los Angeles for another visit. I traveled with garbage bags for luggage. My clothes had paint on them. I kept a journal and I felt like a poet, a true artist. I was young, free, and on my way to see my dad (Brother David) and Uncle Fred in sunny California. This was the first of a few train rides I would take to spend time out west.

For my 21^stbirthday I received a box in the mail from my dad and Uncle Fred. Inside the box there were instructions that I MUST follow. Uncle Fred insisted that 1) purchase a rose and put it in my hair 2) open the package next the river and 3) take pictures. When I opened the gift, down by the river, with a rose in my hair, I opened the box to find an original copy of Kenneth Patchen’s Panels for the Walls of Heaven. The note said to “turn to panel 27 and read aloud”. This is what I read:

Right now I insist that

Right now some

Where a beautiful girl is

Sitting on the bank of a river

With a copy of

This

Book in

Her hands

And right now she has a

Rose in her hair oh

Jesus

RIGHT NOW!

When I graduated from college I got a tattoo of one of Patchen’s drawings on my back. The painting from the poem that reads All at once is what eternity is. Soon after I was tattooed, I took another trip out west. During this visit we took a road trip to Palo Alto to visit Miriam Patchen. Sitting in the living room, listening to Kenneth Patchen’s voice on the record player, with my dad and Uncle Fred and Miriam… If I could have stopped time I would have. On the coffee table sat my copy of the paper I wrote for poetry class, and the pictures of me with a rose in my hair, down by the river. That night I slept next to Miriam in the peaceable kingdom itself. We fed the black squirrels in the back yard. We ate Sara Lee cheesecake. We laughed and we cried. Miriam passed away 6 months after our visit, in her reading chair in her golden living room surrounded by books and art. It’s strange to think that all three of them, Miriam, my dad, and now Uncle Fred, have all passed away.

In 2001, just after 911, Ben and I found our selves living in a tent for 6 months outside Uncle Fred’s trailer. At the time Fred had a roommate named Ted. That was fun. He loved Ted and loved to pick on him. Those were some crazy times. Ben and I officially moved to Santa Monica in 2004 and stayed for three years. I feel so happy to have had the time I did with Uncle Fred. I’m not going to lie. It wasn’t always easy! He and my dad could be so stubborn and it wasn’t always easy to get Uncle Fred out of the house. For all the difficult and stressful times, I would do anything for one more hug. One more visit to The Rock Store. One more ride in the El Camino. One more evening of sitting on the sofa, listening to the Blues and the long repetitive stories with tangents that make your head spin.

Uncle Fred influenced me as an artist more than I could possibly express. I’ve got a magical family. I don’t know how else to put it. These are some special people and now it’s my responsibility to carry on that magic through my writing and my art. It’s time to step it up a notch. It’s hard right now to look back at the past few years, especially since my dad passed and since my son Oscar has been born. I feel myself regretting not calling enough. Why didn’t I call once a week? Once a month? Life is so precious and we get so caught up in the “every day” of it. I just assumed I would see him in May when he returned home to Mattoon. I am still trying to process his sudden departure. He just slipped right out the back door, just like my dad. But now they are having a hell-of-a-party somewhere in the heavens. Oh you can bet on that! I wouldn’t be surprised if him and Grandad Charlie are tossin a baseball. With all the sadness that comes with loosing Uncle Fred, I am so inspired by him and all of the friendships he has made. All of the lives he has touched because he was who he was; a storyteller with a heart of gold. It’s been so exciting to read all the comments on facebook and see all the creative lives he has influenced. I can only hope that I will be able to pass on even just a hint of that spark.

Right now I’m slowly going though boxes, searching for all those handmade cards, the handwritten letters, the postcards. I keep everything, every little sentimental piece of paper, and yes, that is “trickle down” thru and thru. Uncle Fred always used to say over the phone “I miss you whole bunches” and now I hear him saying that and it brings a tear to my eye. Right now I can only hope that I can even begin to be as prolific as him. He always looked ahead to the future, the new work, the new poems, the new paintings. He always had a project going. Thank you Uncle Fred for sharing your life with me. I’m gonna miss you whole bunches, UF without an O.

*the picture above starting at the left: One of Uncle Fred's handmade cards/Uncle Fred and I @ The Rock Store during my first visit when I was 16/ my "art" studio in college covered in WORDS! Trickle down :)

Veggie Burgers...if I remember correctly...

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 18:52:00 +0000

Have you ever been in a situation where you wished you could just erase everyone's memory? I think we can all relate to that in one way or another. I'm pretty sure that teething toddlers have this super power. That is, they have this amazing ability to turn your brain to mush, to scramble it, to make me stop and say "wait...what was I just saying?" It's an impressive ability. Anyway...I made these veggie burgers last night (inspired by this veggie burger recipe). I'm pretty sure (but I don't really remember now) that I was going to take a few pictures and maybe write down my recipe (just in case they turned out good!) But what typically happens in my kitchen....is that I just start throwing stuff together, tasting, and looking and saying "that looks about right!", and hope it doesn't taste like paste. These did not taste like paste, but actually tasted like a delicious veggie burger. So here is my list of ingredients if you want to start throwing stuff together too! I pulsed all the ingredients together in the food processor until I got a nice "burger" consistency.

Tempeh (steamed for 10 minutes then cooled)

1/2 Red onion

a few cloves of Garlic

about 1 cup of three kinds of baked Sweet Potatoes (Garnet, Jewel & Oriental)

Braggs Aminos

Nutritional Yeast

1 Egg

Spelt Flour

Amaranth Flour

about 2 Cups ground up Almonds (like Almond Flour)

Sweet Curry Powder

Salt

Form patties and fry in coconut oil on medium. We had these with Mayo, Red Onion, Avocado and Greens on a Challah roll. This made about 8 patties so I ended up sticking the rest in the freezer. My intention was to serve them with a side of sauted kale with pecans and cranberries, but by then my brain had been zapped.

In hindsight, I would probably leave out the flours and just add more Almond "flour". These would be extremely easy and fun to play around with. Of course you could leave out the Braggs Aminos if you don't want the un-fermented soy. The potatoes would be enough to hold them together if you need to leave out the egg like in this recipe. These would be good with Yukon Gold Potatoes and seasoned with Thyme and Oregano instead of Curry and the addition of tahini would be wonderful. You could serve them as more of a crouquette on a bed of greens instead of a bun. Maybe with a little creme fraiche? You could throw in any veggie you like! Spinach, Beets, Carrots.........

Hi, How are you?

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 20:26:00 +0000

Blogs are funny. I've been doing this for a long time and I still don't feel like I have my footing. Of course we put our best out there to the world. The best family photos, the house, the garden, the amazingly organized studio. The *success* of it all. Ben and I have struggled a lot in the past few years; as artists, as husband and wife, as new parents, friends, business owners. Its difficult to keep up a blog when your life feels so un-perfect. It's kind of like being asked "how are you?" and you say "great!" to simply not have to explain. I have a tendency to disappear, which explains why the last post was in October. We have made a lot of mistakes and I find solace in knowing that everything happens for a reason.

Ben and I have been on this journey together for 15 years. We were still kids when we fell in love, which feels like a lifetime ago. Soon, Ben will be moving 1100 miles away from Oscar and I. No doubt this will be the most difficult journey Ben has ever taken. He loves Oscar more than life. He plans to keep the mustache factory open as it seems folks still appreciate hanging stuff from mustaches, which is great! Thanks to all of you who have helped support this little family of ours! I have plans of my own to get back to the drawing board and soon I will be sharing that stuff right here. I will be revisiting old patterns and playing with some new ones. I've toyed with the idea of starting my own blog. It's always been my voice here, announcing shows or more recently sharing my experience as a new mom. I've decided to stick around here for a bit, make myself a bit more comfortable and see what happens.

Recently I was listening to a philosopher speak about relationships. One thing that resonated with me was one of the reasons we may be continually looking for the *new* outside ourselves (new clothes, new house, new lovers, new jobs) is because we have lost touch with renewing our core selves. It's easier to renew our surroundings. I'm not saying that we shouldn't, for there is much to be said for a new haircut, a dress, a new pair of shoes. I believe these things help keep us inspired! But it's when the high of the *new* becomes a quick fix to renewing your spirit that we may find ourselves feeling empty and confused. So here I am. Starting exactly where I stand, wanting only what I've got. I don't know what the future holds, but I am happy to share its moments of beauty and imperfection as Ben and I begin this new phase. I can only hope it is filled with much inward renewal, abundant creativity and an infinite openness to what the future is capable of bringing.

xo
natalie

one point twenty one jiggawatts later...

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 22:32:00 +0000

Have you noticed anything different around here? That's right, we have officially joined the future. You can now stumble upon us, follow us on twitter and pinterest..and we're on facebook too ...so friend us up! We know these things have been around for a while...but youuuu knoooow...we do live in the midwest...

One of a Kind Show : Chicago

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 15:20:00 +0000

Ben will have a booth at the One of a Kind Show at the Merchandise Mart in Chicago this December 1 - 4! With over 600 artists, it should be quite the craftacular event. If you would like to attend, let us know, we have some free passes :)

For the details : OOAK SHOW DETAILS

Good Bye Summer!

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 01:43:00 +0000

And HELLOOOOO Fall!

This summer Ben painted a sign for the lovely Johnson Public House coffee shop in Madison where he currently has his paintings for sale. He has hung a "Scary" Show for Halloween! So if you are in the area, stop by for a special cup of joe or delicious spicy chai...and check out the new work!

We have recently found out that we have been accepted to the One of A Kind Show in Chicago at the Merchandise Mart December 1-4, so Ben is currently busy making products for the show. Stay tuned for the details!

An inspiring family

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Sat, 27 Aug 2011 22:48:00 +0000

Handmade Portraits: The Beerhorst Family from Etsy on Vimeo.

Our little Blues Man

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 19:29:00 +0000

Elimination Diet

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 14:35:00 +0000

I've been doing a lot of research lately on diet and psoriasis. I have had terrible itching, flaking psoriasis on my scalp that flared a few months after Oscar was born. I had psoriasis as a kid, on my scalp, elbows, belly and on my ears and have only had a tiny manageable flare since then. But this is relentless. I've tried all the shampoos and conditioners, I'm taking fish oil, I've covered my head in yogurt, avocado and jojoba oil. I've seen a doctor, then a dermatologist who prescribed me something toxic that I would never consider putting on my head.

I know that it is internal and that nothing I slather on or rub in is going to be the "cure", maybe just a temporary relief.

From scouring the web the past few days, I've decided to do an "elimination diet". Psoriasis could very well be just one of the symptoms of a food allergy. Of course I'm all for going gluten-free, for that is healthy even for those that are not intolerant. And I love discovering new recipes.

Tom, co-author of Whole Life Nutrition Cookbook has had psoriasis patients completely clear up after doing the elimination diet, so I am convinced and ready to try. I don't have anything to loose. Besides my morning cup of tea. For now. Which is a little difficult since it's a cool and rainy morning. I'm still nursing, so I won't be doing the green smoothie fast, just including them in my everyday routine, which will hopefully stick!

I made these Teff Breakfast Muffins last night and they are my new favorite muffin. Oscar loves them too! This morning I made "Tom's Fruity Medicine Chest Smoothie". I didn't have a ripe pear, so I used all apple. I could NOT drink it without straining it. I LOVE the taste, don't get me wrong. I just couldn't handle the texture. So....I strained all the good fiber and ended up with a green juice, which was tasty, but lacking a lot of "the good stuff".

I thought I would share my experience. Maybe you might want to try the "elimination diet", even to just hit the reset button! The recipes in the cookbook and on the site all look great. Next I will be making this gluten-free bread, it looks so tasty!

Cheers to good health :)

Happy Fathers Day

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 16:20:00 +0000

We wake up every morning to a happy and giggling baby. Today was no different. 6am. A rainy Fathers Day morning. Put on the kettle and make tea for mom and coffee for dad. Oscar and I take Ben his coffee in bed, allowing him to sleep in a little later. I make spelt pancakes with peanut butter and maple syrup and we all sit down for breakfast. Oscar loves the pancakes and him and Ben pretend to eat slices of cheese. Ben devours his pretend cheese like Mr. Fox devours his breakfast and it makes Oscar laugh. After breakfast, the table is cleared, dishes piled into the sink, Ben and I stop for a hug and Oscar joins us, grabbing onto our legs and we make a “sandwich”. Now Oscar is having his morning nap while I write. Ben is in town running errands. The rain has stopped. We have plans to do yard work and we hope for a few hours of dry weather.

Lately I’ve let everyday things like dishes, meal planning, dinner making and laundry, stress me out. But I haven’t exactly been aware of it until Ben pointed it out. I hate that. I don’t want to be stressed over such silly domestic things. What a waste of energy. Ben has been crazy busy with multiple projects with a deadline before he leaves for a few weeks of work out west. He carries his own stress and sometimes we let our stresses go without a good stretch, a bike ride, a good laugh, a tickle attack with Oscar, a good long hug.

After signing out of my Flickr account this morning, which dumps me onto the Yahoo homepage, I got sucked into an article via The Wall Street Journal titled Eat Your Vegetables, and Don’t Forget to Tweet. It made me sad. Yes, I was signing out of Flickr and I have a facebook account and a blog. But I am so thankful for the garden Ben has built us, the sewing lessons in my very near future, the desire to simplify our lives and spend more time outside, away from the glow of the computer screen. By the time Oscar is 20, who knows what kind of world we will live in. It’s hard to imagine. Maybe he will be techno savvy, but we will also make sure he knows his basics; Cook from scratch, grow food, preserve food, grow flowers, sew, mend, build, fix the truck, read a map, handwrite letters. Some things we will learn together; how to raise chickens, clean a fish… fix the truck.

Modern progress seems to overrule our souls, leaving us bereft within a meaningless universe. There is no real God here, except the god of endless want.

We are trained, within this world, to see ourselves as the ego defines us. According to the ego’s dictates, we are small and powerless, surrounded by an infinitely gargantuan and powerful universe. We are here but for a minute before we grow old and suffer and die. We are taught to identify with our guilt more than our innocence, and then we feel haunted by mistakes we feel will dominate the rest of our lives: we are taught to blame others more than to forgive them, and then we get stuck in feelings of victimization; we are taught that we are separate from others, and then we fall prey to grandiosity and insensitivity. We are taught that grades, credentials, past influences, mistakes, marriages, divorces, degrees, resumes, money, parents, children, or houses-whatever label or identity someone wants to stick onto us-are our essence. As a consequence, we forget who we really are.
– From Marianne Williamson’s book The Gift of Change

Ben is back from running errands and the clouds are breaking up, patches of blue sky promise us a little sunshine.

easy dinner

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 22:40:00 +0000

I’ve been in a little uninspired rut lately with Oscar’s food. He’s at the age where he can start having what we are having to a certain point, but I still like to make him his “own”, so that I know he is getting plenty of yummy food. Finger foods often end up on the floor, so we have to do a little of both. Tonight I threw together a spontaneous dish that turned out so good I thought I’d share it! And it’s not just for Oscar. I plan to bake some tempeh and roll these up in tortillas with cilantro, avocado, salsa, and cheese and call it dinner.

Steamed multi-grain rice with homemade stock
Olive oil
Sea Salt
Fresh ginger (or dried)
Fresh garlic (or dried)
Steamed Sweet Potato
black beans
frozen peas
frozen corn

Tornando Warning

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 00:57:00 +0000

I’m feeling stumped today. I wrote this long piece about our travels, all the places Ben and I have called home in the past 14 years, but I can’t bring myself to hit “publish”. I just don’t know if it’s worth putting “out there”. I’ve had anxiety all day. The house is a mess. Oscar “helps” me “clean” by following me around and taking out what I put “back”; toys, clothes, dishes. Then I got a phone call from our doctor’s office saying that his Lead Level is very elevated. “Safe” is below 10 and his is at 20, and from what I’ve learned so far, that is not good.

Now I’m sitting here with Oscar sleeping on the boppy pillow. He is taking a late and much needed nap. I read Anne’s latest writing about money and I’m feeling like I can barely breathe.

Anne wrote briefly about a friend on maternity leave who described labor as being awful and the first few weeks with her newborn were hell. I can only sort of relate to that. I remember watching videos of calm women in labor when I was pregnant with Oscar. I was not one of those women. It hurts. It hurts reeeeaaallly bad. I remember right away saying to my midwives “I don’t know how you do that more than once!” But now that time has passed, I get it. Now I have Oscar. And those first few weeks, those first few MONTHS were no cake walk either. Oscar cried and cried and cried and nursed and nursed and nursed. My boobs were cracked and bleeding and sore and then I got mastitis. Then it came back. Then it came back again. For three months I was on and off antibiotics, which is the last thing I wanted to be taking. I remember being hungry all the time and very VERY tired. I’m still tired, but I LOVE being a mom. I’m sometimes not the most patient. Sometimes I really WANT a break. Sometimes I just want to be by myself. I don’t want to be touched. I don’t want to make dinner, I don’t want to wash the dishes. Some days are easier than others, but I wouldn’t trade my experience for another.

Today I wish I had some crazy mom superpower that could suck the lead out of Oscar’s body. I can feel myself feeling resentful towards our 130 year old house and all those times Oscar has blissfully played in the dirt in the backyard. Soon we will have people come and test our home for lead and we will have it removed. Then we have him tested again after the lead has been removed. There is nothing I can do about it right now and that is a terrible feeling that I’m sure will come with every little scrape and bruise and fever. All parents try so hard to do everything “right”; BPA free plastics, non-nano sun blocks, sls-free, paraben free, organic, soft soles, to vaccinate or not to vaccinate, and God Forbid, keep that cell phone away from my baby’s head! OH! And am I not supposed to be using Oscar's name on this blog? There is A LOT of information to navigate in this insane world we live in.

Tonight as I was about to throw the chicken bones in the slow cooker for stock, I remembered this information I read months ago about Lead in the ceramic of slow cookers. I’m cooking the stock on the stove, but I’m probably being overly paranoid.

Oscar has had his bath and he is a happy man playing with Ben on the couch. I hear thunder and the sound of Oscar and Ben's laughter relaxes me. It's getting really windy and yellow outside. Maybe we should head to the basement.

"ice cream" for breakfast

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 14:37:00 +0000

farm fresh egg
raw coconut butter
full fat coconut milk
fresh ginger
a dollop of maple syrup
frozen cherries

Stuff

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 21:51:00 +0000

Wash diapers. Check. Water Garden. Check. Feed and water Peter (the cat). Check. Wash dishes. Check. It’s 10am and I’m feeling pretty productive, slightly inspired, and very thankful for good clean water. I’m hoping Oscar will fall asleep right now as I type. I need to slow down and just sit here, calm. Listen to the birds outside, the dryer running in the basement. It’s a cool morning, in the 50’s, overcast, breezy.

I spoke with my amazing and so supportive Aunt Cindy this morning. She sent me a link to folks living in a tiny house, about 350 square feet. She said it made her think of Ben and I.

From where I sit right now, in front of the computer, Oscar nursing on the Boppy pillow across my lap, his eyes shut, falling asleep, I see a lot of stuff that would not fit in that little home. I see the two beanbags, orange and brown, that I have had since I was a kid. They are sturdy little things having made it so intact through my childhood, college years and now in our first home. I see our IKEA leather couch we purchased with our double income back in the “Santa Monica” years. It has “meat” pillows scattered on top from my old Pancake Dinner days. There is the IKEA shelving unit Ben painted black, the IKEA computer desk and the bookshelves. The bookshelves are covered in mostly vintage books, and a majority of the treasures are hand-me-downs from my Uncle Fred’s collection. Jack Kerouac, Kenneth Patchen, Richard Brautigan, Henry Miller, Bukowski.

The computer desk where I sit to type has a vintage reading light we picked up at Beloit College when they were giving stuff away a few years ago. There is a vintage “milk glass” vase holding white silk flowers from our display at Renegade Chicago back in 2008. A tiny Buddha figurine (from the little shop next to Real Food Daily in Santa Monica) sits on a wood “coaster” Ben made. The walls are covered in a mix of Ben’s artwork and our growing collection of thrifted art; paint-by-numbers, prints, and outdated school maps our friend Becky gave us. A vintage Globe that wasn’t “vintage” when I first acquired it, a ceramic figurine of a Mexican Mariachi man playing the violin that was on my grandparent’s mantel for all my childhood, a lava lamp that was a gift from my step-dad Scott, an antique scale that was my dad’s. One chair, the upholstery outdated and the cushion rather squishy, was my first piece of “real” furniture, a birthday gift from my mom and step-dad when I finished college and moved into my first apartment. The blue chair was my grandmother’s, it always sat in her living room where we only sat during holidays. I remember when I sat in it and my feet did not touch the ground. It is also where the Afikomen was hidden most Passovers. Next to the chair is a vintage school desk we found. We have a few of those scattered about the house.

In the little “studio” part of our family room is an orange chair we picked up for free at Ben’s family’s church, sitting next to a table from his grandma Pat’s basement. There is a shelf Ben painted white in the corner, I can’t remember where we found that shelf, but it’s covered in miscellaneous art supplies, a glass full of paintbrushes, little gouache paint tubes, a pencil sharpener. Next to that is a light table Ben made out of an old window. On top of that is an old typewriter I purchased for five dollars via a craigslist ad. I bought it for the tree house. In the mix is another globe, a “Friends With You” doll, a fisher price record player Oscar just got as a gift from Aunt Kat and Uncle Luke, a wooden fish instrument that Ben purchased for me as a birthday gift 11 years ago, a vintage “Brownie” camera still in the box, a vintage Chicago ashtray shaped like a pipe, a wooden clog, a vintage fisher price cow, a pair of eye glass frames from the 1980’s, a vintage cardboard “brick”, a vintage fisher price “TV”, a 1970’s yellow rotary phone, a wooden back massager, a plastic pirate ship. Around the corner is a tiny cherry bookshelf from Ben’s grandma Betty. She remembers when her mother picked up the shelf at a flea market in the 1940’s. It is now “Oscar’s shelf”. It holds a few blue “bricks” Ben made, Oscar’s books, a wooden Melissa and Doug toy, a teething toy that looks like an alien mushroom, a Sofie giraffe, a wooden xylophone, a Cat in The Hat doll. On the floor is a rug bought on sale from Target when we first moved into our house as well as an orange 1970’s “husband” pillow we found at Savers when I was pregnant. The windows are covered in plain white curtains also from Target. The “crate” Ben built for our kitty Olive is propping our front door open.

The dining room table is made up of two 130 year old square solid oak tables that my great-grandfather Sam acquired from the Lions Club. The chairs around the table are a mix of chairs Ben found and repaired, and some are from my family’s furniture store when it was going out of business in 2001. In the corner by the bathroom sits a table Ben found in Door County, which he sanded down and painted white. In the opposite corner is an antique bookshelf that was handed down to me which holds a vintage fisher price “gas station” we found on a curb in Milwaukee, a framed photo of Ben’s family in the 1980s and a pair of infant cowboy boots that Oscar will fit into any day now, and an instrument we bought during our first trip to Brasil. Another school desk holds a record player that was a gift this past Christmas with albums handed down to us from a professor during grad school. A canvas Teepee is in one corner, it used to be Ben’s brother Ian’s, now it is Oscar’s. On the walls are more thrifted art, as well as a painting my grandmother Mary did, a coat hook Ben made from an old dresser drawer and dad’s Air Force photograph. I just inherited a toy box that my grandparents Mary and Charlie made together; granddad built the toy chest and grandma painted it. Inside all the drawers are papers. So many papers; bills that need filed away, receipts that need filed away, “important” papers that need filed away or shredded or burned just in case someone wants to steal our identities. Someday I will get around to it. Inside the IKEA shelving unit/filing cabinet are boxes of “papers”; old photographs, love notes, little memory scraps from 13 years of traveling. In the kitchen is a table Ben found in someone’s garbage heap when we lived in Rhode Island. A perfectly fine solid oak table that just needed some love. Our cabinets are filled with mix match dishes either handed down, gifted or thrifted over the years.

I guess we have a lot of stuff. I haven’t even taken you on to the porch, or upstairs, or out into Ben’s studio! I’m thinking about Peter Menzel and his book Material World. I’m picturing all our stuff on the front lawn. I’m trying to imagine not having these things anymore. We have moved about 20 times in the past 15 years. We have packed up and stored and hauled. We have used and reused cardboard boxes so many times that you can no longer trust a box that says “kitchen” or “bedroom”. We could probably circle the world twice with the amount of packing tape we have gone through.

What if our space was half the size? 600 square feet? 350 square feet? How important is this “stuff” to Oscar? I’m not ready to get rid of everything. Maybe a few things here and there would do us some good. There are the obvious things that are in boxes in the basement, still untouched after our last move. I admit I LOVE finding old scraps from my family’s past; Photographs, little snippets from newspapers, an old hat. I love using grandma and granddad’s silverware and flipping through dog eared books, knowing one may have been in Uncle Fred’s back pocket one day while living in Hermosa Beach in the early 70’s. All these things weave together and tell our story. But I remind myself today that the story still exists without the stuff. They are reminders indeed, but we make the story. Being together, being a family, spending time together, learning together, we are living our story. In the end I don’t want to be remembered for all our stuff, but for the people we are, for the son that we raised, for the family that we created, for the life that we lived.

Phew. All of that because Aunt Cindy sent me a link to some folks livin’ in a small home. Well…she is on to something. I have no doubt, that one day I will wake up and Ben will have built a house on the back of Betty (that’s our truck). He’ll be out in the driveway honkin’ Betty’s horn….if only she ran on rhubarb. Heck, if only she ran.

Here is a link to Tumbleweed Tiny House Company for more inspiration!

Memorial Day

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Tue, 31 May 2011 01:13:00 +0000

I’ve been exhausted all day today. Oscar hasn’t been sleeping great so neither have I. We spent the day with Ben’s family, a beautiful sunny day with a gusty breeze. Oscar was too distracted to take a nap and I knew he would fall asleep in the car on the way home. Our drive from Ben’s parents to our house is just under 15 minutes. Ben stayed behind and is now on his bike, hopefully with the wind. I took County Road A and decided to just keep driving around in the country while Oscar slept. We can’t really afford to use gas so frivolously, but I’d just go a little out of my way.

I ended up on Stage Coach Road. It was a beautiful drive. My dad always took the country roads. I was thinking of him on my drive this afternoon. It’s always so easy to get caught up in where you are going instead of enjoying the journey. I had a few folks behind me at some point that were in a hurry, probably thinking about their destinations, but for the most part I had the road to myself. On this day, if my dad were still here, he would be reflecting on his friends’ lives that were lost during Vietnam. Years ago, Ben and I spent a Veterans Day with Uncle Fred, my dad and their neighbor Porter, all three Vietnam vets. It was the most memorable Veterans Day I’ve ever had; sitting at the picnic table outside Uncle Fred’s trailer, listening to them talk. Dad would always call me on Veterans Day and remind me to call granddad to “thank him” for his service.

A few times, when I was young I would march in the parades on Memorial Day with my dad. He bought me a pair of camouflage “bibs” at Rural King and I had a tiny flag on a stick to waive. I would get so confused reciting “LEFT…LEFT….LEFT RIGHT LEFT”, because I thought you had to stay on your left foot for those first three lefts. I would make a terrible soldier.

About 7 years ago, I was describing to my dad the little white house in Mattoon that Ben and I lived in for 6 months, on Richmond Avenue. Dad said he had a buddy that was killed in Vietnam that used to live there. Although I have had friends in the service, I’ve never had anyone close to me die in a war. I’ve only experienced this loss through movies and documentaries, through the very rare stories at the picnic table outside Uncle Fred’s and at the kitchen table with granddad, flipping through old faded pictures that were tucked away in a shoebox.

What happened to the Memorial Day Parade? I wish I had something profound and amazing to say to all of those who have lost a loved one in war, but I don’t. I just have this little reflection, a drive in the country.

YUM

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Sun, 29 May 2011 00:55:00 +0000

farm fresh egg
full fat coconut milk
fresh ginger
organic lemon extract
frozen blackberries
frozen strawberries
dollop of maple syrup

ain't nothin' better

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Fri, 27 May 2011 12:26:00 +0000

farm fresh over easy eggs
spinach walnut "pesto"
thick cut nitrate- free and happy bacon
(i also had blueberry fruit spread on mine. ben thinks that is gross. i thought it was deeeeeeeelicious!)

a gastronomical memior of sorts...

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Thu, 26 May 2011 15:43:00 +0000

I was a vegetarian for almost 17 years. I didn’t “try” to become a vegetarian. It was a very natural thing for me. I was 16. An artist. Wasn’t I supposed to be a vegetarian? Isn’t that in the rulebook? I love to cook and bake and experiment. Trying new things was the fun part, but that didn’t really happen until well into college.

Having grown up in a rural area, things like hummus and pita were not on the menu. It was pretty exotic at one point to have bagels, until of course Kraft in Mattoon started making Lenders bagels. There is the “Bagel Festival” every year because of it. But come on, we all know those aren’t proper bagels. It was even more exotic that my mom occasionally steamed an artichoke. My mom’s side of the family is Jewish which means I also grew up eating fried matzoth sweetened with Sweet and Low (gasp!), and matzoth with margarine. Passover was always my favorite holiday; potato latkes with apple sauce, charoset on matzoth, sweet noodle kugels, and the taste of fresh parsley dipped in salt water, and of course the sweet Manischewitz red wine. For a chunk of time I remember a lot of TV dinners. I remember sweetening our Lipton iced tea with sweet and low, and hot always had a slice of lemon. I remember Roman Meal bread and tuna salad. I was never a school lunch kid. I had tuna salad or egg salad or deli meat or a cold meatloaf sandwich if I was lucky. I LOVED the “slim fast” bars my mom would buy. During a certain phase, I remember a lot of pork chops on the grill with a side of applesauce. When I think of summers by the pool, I think of “Cool Ranch” Doritos, Diet Coke, Crystal Light. I remember doing the “Nestle Plunge”. I remember coming home from school and eating Ritz crackers with Jiffy peanut butter. We fed our dog little “patties” of orange and brown food that looked more like “play-doh” than real food. I remember lots of spaghetti; brown the meat, add the jar of sauce and boil the pasta. My dad’s house on the weekends, I think of Campbells “cream of” soups, “homemade” macaroni and cheese made with Velveeta, grilled cheese sandwiches made with “American” cheese slices on white “enriched” bread, coke and juicy fruit gum, Cream of Wheat or instant white rice with milk and sugar. Hardees Hot Ham and Cheese. McDonald’s “chicken” nuggets dipped in honey. At my mom’s parents I remember cottage cheese, melon, bagels (real ones from Chicago!) with Kraft cream cheese, Jell-O “molds” with strawberries and grapes, avocados, coffee ice cream, 7-Up, macaroons, chicken soup with carrots and white rice and iceberg lettuce salads with Italian dressing, and the occasional chicken livers. My dad’s parents; beef stroganoff, meat loaf with ketchup and mashed potatoes, navy beans and cornbread, rump roast with carrots and potatoes, granddad’s vegetable soup (the secret? sugar, of course!), Coke, sweet iced tea and dessert, always dessert. Homemade strawberry ice cream, pies, angel food cake, the “cheese cake” made in a casserole dish. For a long while, at a restaurant I would always order a cheeseburger, no matter the place; cheeseburger, fries and a coke.

During the mid 1990’s I think everything in our house had a “fat free” label on it. We drank “skim” milk, we ate Snack Wells and our bread was even “low fat”. Those slices of bread probably couldn’t soak up a raindrop they were so thin.

When I first became a “vegetarian”, it was, what? 1994? Kurt Cobain had declared that “fish don’t have any feelings”, so I kept it on my menu. It would come and go as my “vegetarianism” evolved with the tides of our culture and my habitat. The first time I had hummus and pita was at Dojo on St. Marks street on the lower east side of Manhattan during summer pre-college at Parsons. I was 17 and I looked 14, but the waitress didn’t blink an eye when my roommate and I ordered fuzzy navels. When I first started college, I ate a lot of bread. A LOT of bread. Coffee, bread and candy, the “fat free” food! Dots, Twizzlers and animal crackers from the vending machine chased with coke or mountain dew. I started to get terrible, painful acne when I was 19. No wonder! When I finally moved out of the dorms and had my own kitchen for the first time, things started to evolve. I bought my first cookbook Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison. That was a big deal. That was a big chunk of cash! The same day I planned a meal for my friends and my friend Ryan drove me to a little market on the Southside of Milwaukee so I could purchase Mexican Chocolate for a mole. I made Goat Cheese Stuffed Red Peppers with Corn and Red Mole. I remember it was rich and delicious. I need to make those again!

Somewhere along the journey I stopped drinking soda all together and replaced cow milk with Soymilk. Soon I was using soymilk in everything; smoothies, cereal, soup recipes calling for milk, pancakes, even in my morning cup of tea. I used soy “creamer” in my coffee. I was “sold” on the healing properties of the miracle SOY. I started to play with eliminating dairy all together. I used soy yogurt in Indian recipes. I experimented with tofu and tempeh. Having done the “fish-no fish” flip flop for a few years, moving to Santa Monica in 2003 provided us with a fresh seafood market just blocks from our home, but within a year of living in California I dedicated myself to being vegan. It only seemed “natural” and living in Santa Monica made it very easy; farmers markets all year long! We purchased our Champion juicer and had fresh juices every morning. I read The Food Revolution by John Robbins and Fast Food Nation. I was re-energized for the “reasons” I had become a “vegetarian”. I was proud! Ben and I would meet at home during our lunch breaks and have a big smoothie; frozen mangoes, plain soymilk, and agave. Oh agave, how I trusted you! My favorite restaurant was Real Food Daily, again, just a short walk from our apartment. As I was just beginning to entertain the “raw foods” diet, we packed our bags for Rhode Island. Grad school and no more farmers markets in February, my diet consisted of a LOT of energy bars and soy lattes. When I had a “break”, I would cook. I started to photograph my food consumption everyday. I purchased Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World and used vegetable oils, soymilk powder, silken tofu, agave and organic sugar with abandon.

I ate soy at breakfast, lunch and dinner, and on those days, I did not feel good. At the end of a day like that, I would just say I “overdosed on soy”. I knew why I felt bloated and puffy, but it was SO hard to imagine not having soy in my life.

I read The China Study and was entirely convinced that all animal products were unnecessary, but somewhere during grad school I started eating cheese again. I didn’t care if fish sauce was in my Thai take-out and I would sometimes get “whipped cream” on my soy latte. When Ben and I returned to Wisconsin, we both started seeing an amazing Acupuncturist. She is a beautiful modern day medicine woman and she was telling me that I needed animal protein. Now, I guess I can be stubborn and this is not what I wanted to hear. She begged me to just eat one egg a day. I would try. It wasn’t working. I would eat an egg on toast here and there, but for the most part, it just wasn’t working…yet. I read Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma and In Defense of Food and I dove into purchasing as much food as I could local, which is an easy and satisfying thing to do during the spring and summer in Wisconsin. Madison has the country’s largest outdoor market; I bought cheese, veggies, flours, oils.

A shift started to happen when I realized that the vegan “butter” I swore by, was just another packaged, shipped and processed product that was replacing something very very simple and close to the earth…real butter! I started making butter at home from good, organic, non-homogenized Wisconsin cream.

Then we moved to Door County. We were bakers and cooks at a restaurant specializing in fresh, organic, and local.

We ate good! Okay, maybe a bit too much sugar. I made all the cookies and cherry pies and bought fresh fruit from the markets on what seemed like a daily basis. I tasted raw milk for the first time; sweet and creamy, almost like a milk shake. Ben started using heavy cream in his coffee. I was still using soymilk and agave in my morning cup of tea.

We moved back to Madison in 2009, and although I was pregnant, I never experienced any particular cravings. I was often overwhelmed at the barrage of Do’s and Don’ts thrown at you when you are pregnant. Don’t eat raw cheese, raw fish, big fish, farmed fish, no soy, yes soy, too much peanut butter, caffeine, chocolate, certain herbs, parsley oil, kava kava tea, green tea. Ben was working as a cook at a breakfast place and perfecting his egg making skills. I started eating eggs more regularly and lots of whole milk yogurt. I made vegan granola bars for the coffee shop I worked at, replacing the honey with agave and maple syrup. Towards the end of the second trimester I started eating wild caught salmon and yellow fin tuna. I occasionally ate raw cheese and welcomed back my morning cup of black tea. I became a regular at the co-op’s juice bar. I was the “large Sweet Greens.” Kale, parsley, apple.

I did not discover the Weston A Price Foundation until after Oscar was born. If I had discovered it during my pregnancy, I may have started eating liver, taking cod liver oil and searching for a source for legal raw milk. I’ve been getting email updates from Dr. Mercola for a little over a year by this point. Mercola can be overwhelming and it’s easy to question his intentions when he is pitching his own products, but for the most part, I’ve grown to trust and appreciate his knowledge. Our dear Acupuncturist shares similar opinions on nutrition and I definitely trust her. But the same can be said for how I felt when I read The Food Revolution, right? I got Ben the book Fat: An Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient for Christmas and I devoured Nina Planck’s book Real Food: What to Eat and Why. I didn’t LOVE that book, but it was adding fuel to my new fire. I was ready to eat meat again, but I would have rules. Local. Grass-fed. Ben and I roasted a chicken from Trautman’s which we purchased on their farm. I had my first goose and pig at Christmas.

I threw out all vegetable oils except our Olive Oil and we started saving all bacon grease, and using coconut oil. I’m starting to learn what meats I like and don’t like, and our kitchen is stocked with influences from my vegan, vegetarian and raw foods past. I purchased a copy of Nourishing Traditions, the “real food” bible, so-to-speak. We almost always have chicken stock in the freezer now and I only use maple syrup, raw honey, dates and date sugar as a sweetener.

I’ve been making more gluten free cakes and desserts. I use farm fresh eggs with gusto. I just started taking Cod Liver Oil. I soak our nuts and eventually I hope we can afford a dehydrator like this one, and a flourmill so I can make sprouted flours. Hopefully next spring we will have a few of our own chickens. I LOVE food; I love to photograph it, talk about it, eat it, grow it. It has the power to heal us, and bring us together. But the more we process it, ship it, strip it, package it; the more we loose. It makes sense to me that our bodies need fat. It makes sense to me that sugar is a toxin and that agave is just another highly processed sugar. It doesn’t mean you have to agree with me. All of this feels right to me. It’s not really a full circle. I started out in life with soy formula, canned spaghetti stars, fast food, coca-cola, Snack Wells. The journey of food choices I have made continue to influence our plans for dinner. I still use my Deborah Madison book and I plan to make the vegan nachos from the Real Food Daily cookbook next week. The cashew “cheese” is sooo good. I make date balls inspired by Ani Phyo’s “donut holes” at least once a month.

So, the journey continues. Maybe I’m just a shmuck, following all the food trends. I don’t think any of it is invalid. A lot of us are trying to get back to the basics of everything. Slowing down in a world that, at times, can be a very overwhelming and confusing place.

“Ode to an Onion” by Pablo Neruda

Onion,
luminous flask,
your beauty formed
petal by petal,
crystal scales expanded you
and in the secrecy of the dark earth
your belly grew round with dew.
Under the earth
the miracle
happened
and when your clumsy
green stem appeared,
and your leaves were born
like swords
in the garden,
the earth heaped up her power
showing your naked transparency,
and as the remote sea
in lifting the breasts of Aphrodite
duplicating the magnolia,
so did the earth
make you,
onion
clear as a planet
and destined
to shine,
constant constellation,
round rose of water,
upon
the table
of the poor.
You make us cry without hurting us.
I have praised everything that exists,
but to me, onion, you are
more beautiful than a bird
of dazzling feathers,
heavenly globe, platinum goblet,
unmoving dance
of the snowy anemone
and the fragrance of the earth lives
in your crystalline nature.

simple spinach pesto

noreply@blogger.com (suddenly it's real) — Wed, 25 May 2011 13:26:00 +0000

Fresh spinach well rinsed/ stems removed
A few handfuls of “crispy” walnuts (what are “crispy” nuts?)
Grated parmesan
Cold-pressed Olive oil
Sea Salt to taste

Blend together in food processor

I made some quinoa earlier and combined it with the pesto for Oscar.

I suggest soaking your quinoa with a little apple cider vinegar for a few hours before cooking in homemade stock. Jenny from Nourishing Traditions explains it the best in this delicious sounding recipe for a cold Quinoa Salad.

The spinach pesto will be good with eggs, pasta, pizza, quinoa…I’m thinking of adding some to my variation of the Mushroom Poblano Tart via Sprouted Kitchen for tonight’s dinner.