CrunchyBread

My back porch is used as the entrance to my home more often than the front door is. I’ve been embarrassed lately because it was terribly cluttered, holding bunches of junk that I couldn’t quite organize right after the move. Not very welcoming.

Today I cleaned it up. It started with opening the storage shed. All the space in the shed was taken up by a loft bed and twin bed that a friend gave me recently. That’s why my porch was a mess, because all the storage shed stuff got moved out to make room for the beds. I wanted to get the foam mattress out, to give it to my daughter to put on top of her mattress to make it cushier. I ended up emptying out the whole thing and disassembling the loft bed completely, which made it take up a lot less space. Also I decided to discard the box mattress that came with it, because what is the use of a box mattress? It isn’t a spring. It’s just a BOX. But not one you can put stuff in, so it is STUPID.

The upshot is that I made lots of room in the shed for things I actually want to keep, so I was able to clear off the porch. Then I swept it and shook out the two welcome mats very well to help reduce dirt being tracked into my house. I feel a lot better about the message this sends about approaching my home.

Next I want to spread some gravel over the hard packed dirt beyond my porch, again to reduce tracking stuff in the house. Also I think it will look nicer. Eventually I’d like to get some beautiful potted plants to frame the entrance. Even if they were plastic it would be nice to have some color out there.

The first poem we’re studying is Haiku. The only absolute rule is that it should have five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and five in the third and final line. The thing that makes it interesting, though, is if in those few words you can communicate a moment that others can put themselves into and feel along with you.

I invite anyone reading this to compose a haiku and share it with us. I love reading haikus!

I hesitate to ennoble the growth I’ve seen with the term “sprouts” because to me a sprout indicates something green poking up above the soil. This is almost the opposite. What I’ve seen is some of my pea seeds this morning have developed their first root shoot, which is pushing the pea up above the ground, though no green leaves or stem shoots are yet developing.

I don’t know why the growth is apparently going backwards. Maybe I just didn’t plant my peas deeply enough. I went by the rule of thumb that a seed should be planted three times as deep as its own diameter, and since pea seeds are about a quarter inch across I planted them about an inch down.

The soil on my garden is about 2”-3” deep, over a thick layer of straw. I know this is a strange experiment, but I’ve heard it can work, so I still am hoping for the best. But I am really surprised at this development. I know straw is very tough when it’s fresh, but there are many air holes in and around each stalk, and each stalk is itself soaked with water. I’d have thought the roots would easily find their way down into and through this straw layer, always finding adequate moisture as well as air.

My garden looks like it’s sprouting little alien eyeball beings. I should go out there with a marker and draw pupils on them all and freak out the neighbors.

To start off our poetry challenge, I wrote two double Haiku’s for Adam. The first was a riff on his theme “shortness”, and the second a response to how to behave when the teacher is dumbing down her lesson plan below where he feels comfortable.

Shortness
How sad the ice cream
is on the top freezer shelf
and I can’t reach it.

The joy of shortness
is that economy cars
always have leg room.

Classroom Etiquette
Quiet, brain! Quiet!
Such intelligence as this
is not needed now.

The teacher needs me
to set a good example
not be a smart ass.

Adam loved both these poems I wrote, and laughed and re-read them time after time. He enjoyed seeing me go through the process of how to find the right words to fit the poetry form “puzzle”, while still saying what I mean to say by showing examples (if possible) rather than just blurting stuff out. He is very excited now to practice writing real poetry of his own.

And lest anyone think for a minute I’m just being judgmental and cruel about Adam’s first attempts at poetry, let me reassure you he freely admits he fully intended to be a smart ass and write the worst poems he possibly could, out of the most banal and senseless drivel he could spew. Even at that, I have to admit a mite of shimmer sparkled here and there. But he really is capable of doing better and I’m trying to help him find ways of achieving his potential.

I can see now why Adam had so much trouble working on this project. Yesterday we brought home his assignment sheet and workbook and everything, and talked to the substitute teacher about the project (because the regular teacher wasn’t there, though she will be today). Adam is having trouble doing this assignment because his textbook is really kinda crap, and the project is so dumbed-down it’s hard to understand how to turn in something with expectations that low. Adam is way way WAY too smart to feel challenged by this.

The sad thing is that Adam is left feeling like he’s dumb. HE isn’t dumb. The class is dumb. Seriously. I’m shocked. I’m disappointed. Adam has just spent K-6th grade in a school that only expects a standard that literally a moron could pass. I feel really sorry for him.

I had trouble comprehending at first. I thought he had to write a paper, like a three-page essay or something, with multiple cited sources etc. comparing and contrasting three to five different aspects of life between ancient India and Egypt. NOOOOOOOO. All he is doing is a pamphlet. A BROCHURE. Basically bullet points listing ways in which the environment influenced each culture, showing how they are similar or different. And he has to have a “position” on it. Not a theme, as for a paper. Just a position, as in personal opinion or fantasy. He has to imagine how things might have been different. That’s all.

The truly low standards of this school were made clear to me when he showed me his “poem calendar” which was his English project. He wrote twelve of the crappiest poems I ever saw. Seriously, most of them don’t even deserve to be called poems. And he knows it. He himself said they were utter crap. He said he just wrote a dumb sentence and broke it up into four lines and called it a poem. He did the absolute minimum he could get away with. And yet the teacher praised him, and said his poems were good! And he said even as hard as he tried to make something obviously bad, his were not the worst poems turned in.

Here’s one of his crappy poems:
SHORTNESS
Shortness isn’t tall
Shortness is very small
But that’s not all that shortness is
Because shortness is what shortness is

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I told him we will correct this situation as soon as summer starts. He will re-write all 12 of his poems, using the same themes suggested, but he will make DECENT poems this time that actually SAY something. It will be fun.

We are also going to write a REAL paper. I’ll treat him like a college student, and have him use proper essay form and show him how to do research, and proper citations, and bibliography and everything. We’ll write a paper that will make any other paper he ever gets assigned seem like child’s play. And it will be GREAT! He’s actually looking forward to this mutual summer project. His poor little atrophied underfed mind will get a chance to stretch and shine, and he’ll be proud of his project at the end.

Adam has really bad handwriting, can hardly type, and can hardly spell. But he can definitely THINK. I’ll be his secretary and get his thoughts onto paper, and then he’ll have evidence of his brilliance, instead of the crap this low-bar school called adequate. He’ll have something to be really PROUD of.

Okay. After I got my plan in mind for how to go forward and not let this bad behavior of mine recur, I went and knocked on Adam’s door. He whimpered, as if he were facing a growling animal.

I talked to him through the door and asked if it would be okay for me to come in. He cried and muttered in an utterly terrified voice “I don’t want you to come in I don’t want you to come in I don’t want you to come in…” I’m afraid I may have seriously traumatized him worse than I thought. He was reacting like I used to when I got severely beaten.

I spoke to him through the door and told him I would not come in if he didn’t want me to. But I asked if I could continue to talk to him through the door. He said “I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared…”

I said I’m very sorry I yelled at you before, and I won’t do that again. I want to give you a hug.

He hesitated for a moment, and then in a smaller voice said “I really want a hug, I really want a hug, I need a hug, I need a hug…”

So I went into his room and gave him a big hug. I held him and didn’t speak, and he quieted down. I could feel him relaxing in my arms, though he was still upset. But he was calming. He wasn’t able to calm on his own. He needed me, his usual source of love and comfort, to help him calm down.

I told him we needed to talk later, but I would not talk now. I just wanted to hug him. I wanted him to know I’m very sorry for what I did, and that I want him to feel better so we can talk later. I cried a little bit, because I really am sorry, and ashamed. He held on to me tightly. Moments passed slowly, and some of the crazy fear that terrorized him began to ebb away, and he was able to breathe slower and more deeply.

I urged him to drink some water. I judged that he was able to hear me if I had something reassuring to say, so I told him that I am very sorry that hearing him wail sent me over the edge and I lost control. I cannot hear him wail and be okay. I told him it isn’t okay that I smacked him, even a little, because nobody deserves that. Screaming is different from smacking. I told him if I ever felt like I couldn’t hold myself together again if he was wailing at me, I’d first tell him to stop, but if he didn’t or couldn’t, I would leave the house because that is better than smacking. Then I hugged him some more.

He told me he felt so stupid, and he wanted to die. I told him I don’t want him to die.

He told me he had an awful day at school because he is going to fail and he can’t help it. I told him I spoke to his teacher and he is NOT going to fail. We ended up talking for more than half an hour about how just because he may have done many wrong things in school this semester, it isn’t going to make him fail and not pass his grade. He has done other work, gotten other grades, and will have my help with this grade. He has made it harder on himself by not bringing home his assignment so we could have had the weekend. He said it’s due Wednesday. So I told him we will have to work without stopping on Monday and Tuesday. But no matter what happens he will NOT fail. We will turn something in, and even if it’s crappy it will be enough for him to pass.

We talked a bit more. Then I said he should take a shower or bath, and relax more, and I would bring him a sandwich or something. Now he is in the bath, and the towels are in the dryer getting fluffy. I’d better get him that sandwich. Things are almost back to normal.

Okay, I’m getting calmer.

Adam stopped wailing after I screamed at him last time. That gave me the mental space to think more clearly, and I was able to calm down and not be quite so explodingly furious. It also gave me some time for me to feel my guilty feelings for having failed him as a mother whose responsibility is to be kind and understanding and to make him feel safe, not threatened.

I got some headache medicine, a big water bottle, and some decongestant to bring him, took a big breath, and went in to him again. He was cowering under his bed, and he jumped, terrified, when I entered even though I announced myself and didn’t storm in.

I spoke in a very calm, low voice. I said I was very sorry things got so out of hand, and that I wasn’t going to scream or hit anymore. I put down the things I brought him, and backed away to the door so he could come get them without feeling afraid to approach me. I told him I am over being furious, but I need to talk to him about this whole situation when he is also calm. He is no longer confined to his room if he needs to use the bathroom or something, but he should stay there until he feels calm enough to talk. Maybe he’ll need a nap first to help relax, and if so that is okay.

I don’t like terrifying my son. I don’t normally do that. I know it must have seemed bizarre and frightening for a mom who is normally all hugs and kisses and praise to suddenly turn into a screaming banshee hurling obscenities at the top of her lungs. I wish I could have not done that. I don’t know why this afternoon was somehow beyond my normal capabilities to cope and redirect bad feelings so they wouldn’t be destructive.

I told him I want him to think carefully about what happened this afternoon, and to try to think of ways in which he contributed to what happened. I don’t mean to lay all the blame on him, but it is true that he did do some things he could have done better. I told him I will talk with him and we’ll get this straightened out, but I need him to be able to talk calmly with me and not wail or cry at me. When he’s ready to talk I’ll give him another apology, and we’ll hug and start fresh.

I don’t want to be a bad mom. I’m not normally bad. But nobody is perfect. Somehow today must have been more trigger-tripping for me than most days are.

I hope that as bad as this all felt, it isn’t as bad as it seemed. This is the first time I spanked him at all since he was five. I swear it was a very light smack. But I do feel very ashamed that I didn’t control myself better than that, and I don’t quite know how to get over it from here.

I hope he can understand, and forgive me. I just wasn’t able to be myself when I heard him wailing. It drove me beyond my ability to cope. If it happens again, I suppose I’d be better off leaving the house than to listen to that again.

But right now I almost want to.
Last night he cried to me that he is afraid he will fail Social Studies. I reassured him that we will do whatever it takes to be sure he passes, even if I have to play secretary for him and hold his hand all the way through completing any assignments we can, and maybe some extra credit. We might not get him a good grade, but we’ll get him to pass.

I spoke to his teacher on the phone this morning and she assured me he is nowhere near failing. That’s great! He’s obviously overreacting to some irrational fear.

There is a week left in the school year, and there is one assignment left to do, according to his teacher. When he got home I asked my son for the assignment sheet, and at first he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about. In terms an idiot could understand I explained what an assignment sheet was, and asked him to give it to me. He said he’d left it at school.

I’m so angry I want to bite his head off, chew it up, and spit it in the trash. He’s in there crying now because I yelled and cussed at him. I’m so angry I can’t stand it. He’s afraid of failing, but doesn’t even bother paying attention to WHAT an assignment sheet is, or that he should BRING IT HOME TO WORK ON IT.

I could just explode.

Now he’s wailing. I’m not usually angry with him very much, nor does he usually merit such a stiff punishment as being yelled at and (gasp!) being sent to his room. The being sent to his room was something I did because I do NOT want to hit him or be any meaner to him than I can help, and if I see him right now I’m going to lose what little cool I have left. I’m about to go scream at him for wailing at me.

Okay I screamed at him some more. I terrified the poor little bastard. I will confess I even smacked his bottom a little bit, just with my fingertips, because he looked at me like he was surprised I would be angry at him. I lost it.

Shit. This is not one of my better shining moments of motherhood. But at least he’s being quiet now, and maybe I can cool down some and not keep grinding on how furious I am.

So I failed at my title intention of not smacking my son. It could have been worse. I know I didn’t actually hurt him. I scared the piss out of him, though. He’s not used to me screaming at him. I’m going to have to go apologize to him after I cool down.

I probably shouldn’t post this. It will just let everyone know how flawed I am. I don’t think I need any advice on this. I know what I’m doing, and I know I should do better and I know I can figure out ways to do better. But I guess I’m posting it so that my friends will know how imperfect I am. I try to be a good person, but even good people lose it sometimes.

The pea seeds were beautifully soaked, and some even showed tiny sprouts this morning. So I planted them. I sure hope they grow!

I didn’t water them because I don’t want to wash them away. I need to get a watering can with a gentle sprinkler head. All I’ve got right now is a bucket, which would be very rough on newly-planted seeds and loose soil.

It is now the middle of June, but the weather feels more like early April. It is barely into the sixties sometimes, and the sky is mostly cloudy and rainy. The rain is light and drizzly. I don’t know if or when warmer weather will ever come. For the last two years summers have been like this, sometimes with only two or three weeks of weather over 80 before swinging right back into fall cold drizzliness.

Since I don’t know, I’m just going to chance it. A lot of seed packets say I should have planted them months ago, but what the heck. I’ll just plant what I have, and maybe it will live. Surely SOMETHING will grow, a little at least. And anything that grows will add to the biomass of my garden.

I had three varieties of spinach seeds, so I mixed them all up and scattered them all over the garden. That will make a nice ground cover when they all sprout. Maybe one variety will do better than the others at handling the heat when it comes.

I have rainbow chard and nasturtiums and scarlet runner beans planted in a seedling tray. When they sprout I’ll transfer them to the garden along the edges so people will see plenty of color rising up or spilling over the sides.

I have some zucchini seeds. I think one plant at each corner is a good bet. It will look lush, and the leaves may spill over the sides and take up space in the walkway instead of shading my garden. I don’t know if there will be time for it to fruit much, but maybe with four plants going we’ll get at least a few meals out of it.

I found about three packets of my favorite snap peas “Sugar Lace”. They stand without support and grow to about two feet tall, and produce continually once established. Right now they are pre-soaking so they will get a jump start once they’re in the ground. I’ll cover the middle of the garden with them. Many of them may shade my spinach plants, but that’s okay. There should be enough spinach to glean in between and around.

I’ve never felt the need to plant vegetables in neat rows. Even squares, like “square foot gardening” seems a bit regimented to me. Nothing in nature would ever look like that. In nature everything is a jumble, all jostling for position wherever the plant best likes the light and water etc. At the risk of people telling me my garden is “unkempt” I intend to grow things in rather a chaotic celebration of hope. I don’t know what may grow or what may fail. I’ll let them all figure that out for themselves.

My daughter’s boyfriend came over tonight, and while (on a whim) I cooked a dinner worthy of Thanksgiving itself, they built my garden box for me, and spread in the straw. Yay!

Now I just need to bless it with bone and blood meal, and spread on the topsoil.

I started this garden because there was a change in my food stamps, reducing them by $150 per month. Then something else happened and now I’ve decided to go off food stamps altogether. So actually the value of what I need to replace in my food budget is about $266 per month. (But I don’t feel like renaming the goal, so WTH.)

My first garden bed is 8’x4’, so that is 32 square feet.
266/32=8.31
So I need for each square foot of my garden to grow $8.31 worth of vegetables per month for me to reach my goal. That’s barely $2 per week. Even if I wasn’t haughty-taughty about my produce being organic and super-fresh, I’m pretty sure I can pick way more than that!

I think the problem will not be whether I can grow that much produce, but whether or not I can grow enough variety that my family will still want to eat it. My garden gets about two hours of sunlight per day at best, so it really can’t be counted on to grow anything other than leafy greens and herbs. I am happy to increase the amount of leafy greens we eat, but can we eat them every single day and not get sick of them? Can we learn to think of leafy greens as a staple of our daily diet, and look forward enthusiastically to just having different varieties of greens, rather than thinking we’ll ever go a day without eating them?

We enjoy our greens when we can get them now because they are a rarity. A bunch of chard from the store costs about $4, and will feed my family one meal if we sautee it with onions and maybe some mushrooms and eggs. I don’t like spending $4 for only part of one meal, so I don’t buy them often. But if we had it every day would it become disgustingly boring?

Normally I spend about $500 per month to feed us. That’s $125/wk for three people, or about $42 per person per week, or $6 per person per day, $2 per person per meal. So you see where I’m coming from.

This garden will surely be a tremendous blessing! I only hope we can fully utilize it, and not let it go to waste.

I got the plywood, and some posts to screw the corners into, etc. All the wood is nicely cut and ready to assemble. I also got the bags of compost for on top, and the blood and bone meal.

I spent about $70. I guess I need to account for that “debt” while collecting my vegetables before beginning to account for the value I hope they will produce.

Meanwhile, I have started some seeds in a peat pot growing tray, so they should be ready to transplant in as soon as they sprout a bit. I’ll need to go buy more seeds and starter plants as soon as my garden is fully assembled.

I’ll consider my garden actually “begun” when it is ready to plant.

Yesterday a friend brought me a bale of straw, which will be the foundation of my new garden. Today he said he’d help me get some plywood and stuff which will become the form for the raised bed. I gave up on the idea of using 5-gallon buckets because they have not been as easy to find as I guessed they might have been.

The idea is that I’ll cut a 4’x8’ sheet of plywood into two 16”x8’ lengths and two 16”x4’ lengths. Then I’ll build my box out of that (not sure how to do the corners yet) and I’ll fill the box with the loosened straw. I’ll top the straw with about 3” of organic compost, and plant my seeds into that. The straw will hold moisture for the plant roots to find, and will raise the level of the bed to a comfortable height. I can also bury kitchen waste under the straw to create new compost in an odorless way that won’t attract critters. I might use a nitrogen-rich compost activator like blood meal to help the straw break down and to grow healthy leaves, and perhaps some bone meal to provide phosphorus for strong stems.

I know eventually earthworms will find my garden. I’d like to get some red wigglers (manure worms, compost worms) to help break down the raw vegetation, though. I don’t know where I can get them yet, so that’s a project either for the internet or for a local search.

In future years I know the straw I’m starting with today will eventually become rich compost, which I could use to top other garden beds to repeat the whole trick again.

The swelling in my ankles seems better today. I’ve been drinking as much water as I could to help flush my system, and I’ve noticed that even so my urine seems darker than normal. So either I’m not drinking nearly as much water as I think I am, or I’ve got a LOT of toxins to flush out!

Also, I’m trying to eat less salt. It’s difficult to break the habit, though. Oftentimes I’ll only notice it AFTER I’ve already eaten it. It is just so automatic for me to salt my food. But when I can remember, I do consciously choose not to reach for salt. Maybe I should put the salt shaker away to help me remember.

I’m elevating my legs whenever I can, especially when I sleep. That seems to help a lot. But just sitting or standing normally for an hour or two can begin to bring the swelling back.

Yesterday I climbed all over a bunch of steep hills to plant some seeds and things. The day was warm and I was dripping sweat, which is very unusual for me. I noticed when I got back that my ankles were fine. It seems the exercise, getting the blood pumping, must have been good for the circulation and kept things from puddling up.

So I’ve decided not to go to a doctor about this unless it gets worse. Doctors are a big trigger issue for me, and I don’t want to face going to one unless there is NO other choice. I believe doctors are fantastic at surgery or setting bones, but I just don’t trust them when it comes to prescribing pills. Pills are shifty-eyed card sharps in my book.

My ankles are swelling. It looks like I’m growing little water balloons under my ankles, almost on my heel. They’re something like 1.5” big. They don’t hurt, but it’s freaking me out. My legs also feel “full”, with the skin taught. So I know I’m retaining water from the knee down.

It doesn’t hurt, but I’m scared. I don’t know what it means. I don’t know if I should see a doctor. I don’t know if I CAN see a doctor. I don’t know if it is something I could fix with nutrition and exercise. I don’t know whether the doctor will put me on some stupid pill just because doctors ALWAYS prescribe a pill.

This started yesterday, after my daughter’s graduation. I think it was triggered because I had to kneel down on concrete for a long time, maybe a half hour or more, while trying to be somewhere I could take pictures. Yesterday the swelling went down after I took a bath, which leads me to think having my legs raised is smart, and maybe the slight pressure from the water on my legs helped. Maybe I should go swimming and/or buy support hose.

I don’t know what to do.

In choir there is a woman named Lene who I always have thought dislikes me. She sometimes makes comments which might be interpreted as belittling…or they might be interpreted as her “just talking”, so there’s nothing solid I can pin down. But I get the feeling of disdain from her.

She sat in front of me today. She complained that she couldn’t hear the men singing, because my voice was so loud (singing my part). We did a rehearsal where everyone sang, but the other alto and I didn’t sing for some reason, and Lene said how much better she could hear the men and how much better we all sounded in general.

Honestly I think she’s jealous because my voice is better than hers. I have good tone, perfect pitch, excellent rhythm, and I learn songs quickly, even though I’m singing the harmony instead of the lead. So my part is more challenging than hers. Her voice isn’t bad, but none of the sopranos sing with very strong voices or with particularly beautiful tone. Often I’ve had to sing all by myself as the only alto against half a dozen sopranos, and I had no trouble balancing all of them. I don’t know why they sing so feebly. Their voices aren’t really that weak, it’s just the way they sing.

In order to try to please this woman I changed the way I sing halfway through rehearsal. I switched to a brighter, more nasal and breathy style like a little girl almost. It softened my tone and made my sound blend more so it didn’t stand out at all. I asked her after rehearsal how she liked the change, and instead of answering me she just ignored me completely and turned to talk to someone else.

It hurt. It made me mad. I left the room and went and cried in the kitchen. I don’t know why it made me feel unable to stop sobbing. It felt so rude. In the end I know I’m not here to please her. I’m here to be a member of choir. The choir director loves me a LOT, and values my voice and contributions. But right then all I could think of was that I’ve been in this choir for several years now, and I still feel like an outsider. It felt just like I was in grade school again, and the popular chick dissed me and made me feel like shit.

Here it is, hours later, and I’m still tearing up at the memory of it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It isn’t like me to let something this petty get so inside my face that it can make me cry. Something must be out of whack with my hormones, maybe.

I’m feeling more and more like I don’t even want to go to church. I don’t see any point anymore. I have other places I could spend my energy. They obviously don’t need me. They have their clique, and I’m not in it. I guess I’d better leave before I make them uncomfortable. Because that is the next step. I feel like going and doing things on purpose to make folks as uncomfortable as possible. Part of me is a bit devilish, and wants to inflict this pain I’m feeling outwardly, and piss everybody off. I want to make the whole church feel sick and ashamed of itself, and unworthy of anyone to like them. That would be fun. Mwahaha!

Probably I’ll feel better after I sleep it off. Whatever this is that’s bugging me I’ll probably find better things to focus on tomorrow.

It seems goat milk does not give me the same reaction that cow’s milk does. Day before yesterday I drank about a quart of goat’s milk, and waited for the results… and nothing! I feel fine.

Honestly I have a bit of headache this morning, but I think that is just normal morning grogginess and aches from sleeping on the couch. I’ve had the same feeling every morning for a month, even when I consume no dairy at all.

So now I know if I’m really jonesing for milk I can have goat milk. Which means I can probably also have goat cheese. And goat kefir!

It’s much more expensive than cow milk, though. The cost alone will keep me limited. But at least now I know I may someday have pizza again. :D

I’ve just finalized a plan with the apartment manager to host Monday Morning Brunch every week in July. It will be at 10am, and I’ll probably spend about $20 for food supplies each time. I’ll leave a jar out for tips/donations, but won’t actually ask for any money from anyone who shows up. If folks come and have no money to spend, I’ll be just as happy to host them. I don’t doubt though, that probably some will feel glad to give a dollar or two, or maybe more. In my experience people are usually generous if they can be.

I’ll serve a simple menu of inexpensive things that can feed a crowd. I’ll have a variety of offerings so folks of different dietary needs won’t feel excluded. I think I’ll offer scrambled eggs, toast with jam and butter, oatmeal with nuts and raisins, bananas and peanut butter, coffee and juice, and muffins or some other kind of home baked treat. I may offer different things on different weeks depending on my mood and my finances.

I’ll be sure to have a newspaper available for folks to browse, as well as maybe a cartoon video for kids to watch. I want this to feel like a big family gathering where people can gently wake up and socialize and get excited about starting a fun summer week.

Denise (the apartment manager) will put a notice in the monthly newsletter to residents. Maybe we should put out a sign/flyer by the pool as well? I’d really like to attract at least 10-15 residents, including kids. 20-30 would be even better. If I get more than 30 people I’m sure they could still get fed, but they would not have quite as much choice as the first attendees. They might have to make do with just oatmeal and coffee. (Which is no bad breakfast, at that.)

Besides brunches, I hope eventually to host cookouts, group dinners, and cooking classes. I hope to do some of these things even this month without much advertising. I’m getting to know more neighbors every week, and the more I know the happier I feel in my new home. This place is really wonderful.

Does everyone feel yucky on cold, cloudy days, or is it just me?

Yesterday I wanted to go shopping, but I had the hardest time getting myself going. I had a headache in the morning which I totally didn’t deserve, since I haven’t had any dairy in a long time. I also couldn’t get warmed up and shivered under blankets all day, watching 3rd Rock from the Sun reruns on Hulu. I felt physically depressed, though mentally I wasn’t sad.

It was 3pm before I managed to get myself not only showered, but dressed and into shoes. By 4pm I had my gear together and actually stepped outside, mentally whinging the whole way. But I did go to the store. I met my son coming home from school and made him go with me, for moral support.

It was better having him with me. Our first stop was the deli, where we shared a value meal of fried chicken with potatoes and corn and soda pop. We don’t normally have fried chicken or soda, so that was a treat for us. Sharing that with him put some heart in me, and I was able to face the shopping I had to do.

Besides the normal shopping I filled my bicycle with, I bought a new shower head. The one that came with the apartment is pretty weak. Besides, we’ve gotten used to having one on a hose you can remove to wash the undercarriage. Going back to a stationary one above seems somehow barbaric. I’ll install it today, so here’s hoping it will give me no trouble!

Finally I bought a quart of goat’s milk, to test and see if it will give me migraines like cow’s milk does. My daughter made chocolate chip cookies last night, so that was a perfect opportunity to try some as an accompaniment. I guess I’m not surprised that since it tasted every bit as good as cow’s milk, which I’ve been missing so very much, I ended up drinking the whole quart by this morning. Now I just have to wait a day and see if I get slammed with horrific pain, or if I luck out and have now found a new addiction. So far, so good!