Big Sur, Julia Pfeiffer Beach trail from r.g.munoz on Vimeo.

finally edited! enjoy….

What I see can be pleasing or disturbing. It can be a reason to reaffirm my determination to attack my ‘to-do’ list or it can be that momentary reminder that the list is not an end, it is a means, a means to a more realised self. The list has no value in and of itself. The value is in where the list takes me and how it helps me to develop.

Sometimes NaBloPoMo is just another thing on my long list of things to do, but when I can sit down and remember that there is a greater purpose in it, that I can delve into myself to find a nugget of significance then it becomes illuminated by meaning and purpose. This is just a reminder to me to stop and savor things, to turn them over in my mind and tease meaning from them, to find my joy in my life because this is my only life.

Today was a day that was filled from beginning to end with the minutiae of daily living. A tour of school that we’re considering for the kidlet, cleaning and organizing and management, shopping for furniture, email and computering for work, grocery shopping and dinner making. In between all of these things were the moments of watching my children grow up, listening to someone read a book, observing someone as she learns to walk, sitting in the sun with a delicious coffee, making plans for next year, bringing the family together for a homemade meal and ♥ love ♥ filling up the cracks. Twas simple and lovely and all that I ask is for it to continue and grow.

Today I pulled out my remaining tomato plant and the eggplant bush in preparation for this year’s winter garden. Last year’s garden was a great success and we hope to replicate that success this year. Today I applied a whole bunch of finished compost, which has a redolent muskiness. It’s funny because when I first put it in the raised bed you can still see bits of eggshell, small clumps of old tea bags, and bits of hair as we compost all our old haircuts. In about a week when I start putting in my seedlings much of this will have mixed in with the old dirt, but the eggshells will not completely break down until we come back in the spring with our next batch of compost.

This year we will plant chard, carrots, broccoli, kale, beets, lots of lettuce, parsnips, mustard greens, collards, some winter beans and peas and a few different types of flowers. We loved having the garden last winter and the wonderful ease of walking out the front door to pick something fresh for dinner never got old. Most of the work is in getting the plants in the ground and helping them get established. Once that’s done ’tis just a matter of weeding and waiting. Probably after the New Year we’ll be able to start harvesting some tender greens in perfect time for the wee one’s first birthday.

This year has gone by and part of the reason for that is having a new babe in the house. I was never a baby person til I had kids and this new baby has simply pushed me over the edge. I now go gaga for babies (especially when I’m ovulating). Bringing the second baby home was a new experience because the fear and anxiety that I experienced after the kidlet was born never manifested this time around, so I actually got to enjoy the experience of bringing baby home.  Twas a very special time, plus I got to take a little bit more time off from work since my boss was out of the country for while. Having two has been tough but great for me and I’ve been enjoying it. The past nine and a half months have been marked by new growth for every person in this household.

Right now we have a number of things going on, some of which I’ll update you on in the weeks to come. For now I’ll leave you with this recipe that has quickly become a favourite. Enjoy!

Vegan Pesto

• 2/3 cup toasted nuts (we use 1/3 C pumpkin seeds and 1/3 walnuts)
• 2/3 cup olive oil (you can use less or more depending on your preference. we like our pesto a little dry, so we usually estimate to get the right consistency)
• 4 cloves garlic
• 1/3 cup nutritional yeast (this is in place of the parmesan. don’t worry you won’t miss it.)
• lots of basil ( i use at least two handfuls, probably equivalent to at least two bunches)
• 2 tsp of your favourite spices (we use a garlic and herb blend, but any savory blend that you like should taste fine)
• fresh ground pepper to taste

Toast nuts and seeds on cookie sheet at 400 F til brown (approx. 8 minutes). Add all  ingredients to blender and blend until preferred consistency is reached. voila!

For some this would be torture. For me it is a joy. One of the things that has reformed my thinking about what is necessary for gracious living is the Apartment Therapy website. I have been reading the website for years and over time my notion of what constitutes a home has changed. I think we all have an idea in our minds about what we think our home should look like, a certain number of bedrooms and bathrooms, a square footage that will allow us to pursue dreams and hobbies, a Platonic ideal against which all things are measured. In addition we have ideas of ‘safety’ and neighbors and if we have kids we think of school districts. Probably many of our preferences are shaped by our childhoods and formative experiences. In fact with over half of the world existing on less than $1 a day, many of these concerns are just learned notions of what exactly a ‘home‘ is. Apartment Therapy questions our notions — our American, developed world notions — of what one needs to create a home. I have let go of some of my biases and embraced our current situation.

Another factor in my release of the notion ‘bigger is better’ is the long running column, Shelter by Toni Schlesinger, in the Village Voice. In one of her earlier columns she documents a family who share 500 square-foot apartment. At the time Wade & I were living in a 425 square-foot duplex near the beach. I remember looking around the space, which I had only gotten to work comfortably after many iterations of furniture moving and stuff organizing, and thinking, ‘ZOMG, could Wade & I raise a child here?’ I never found out the answer to that particular question, but here in CasaWeX, I am pursuing the factual actual question ‘can 2 adults and 2 kids share less than 1,000 square-feet and enjoy it’. One of the reasons that Wade & I have always embraced this house is that everything is very close together. One can be cooking in the kitchen and the other geeking on the computer and a conversation can be held at reasonable volume. We like being close to one another. But when two kids (and all their stuff) are added to the mix can it be made to work? The answer to that question remains to be seen, but suffice it to say so far, so good.

The morning of her birth I woke in the wee hours with noticeable labor pains. I didn’t mention it to any one in the hopes that the labor would subside and that the baby would come closer to the EDD (estimated due date). I had read of many women who experienced ‘false labor’ and I secretly hoped to be one of those. O, denial, she is not a river in Egypt! Wade left for work and Lucas and I started our day, going through the quotidian practices that make a day: washing, breakfast, cleaning, playing, dressing, &c. Around half past 10, I felt the pains increase in intensity and duration and realized that things might not go according to my plan and since we had been so focused on finishing the kids’ room there was nothing washed or ready for the new baby, not one bodysuit or footed sleeper, so I called Wade and alerted him to my situation. He came right home.

For the next few hours I paced the house while Wade washed laundry, organized, cleaned and otherwise prepared for our return home after a few days in the hospital. Nonno came to get Lucas so that we could prepare with little distraction. Last time we endured a long hospital stay pre-delivery and we had determined that I would do most of my laboring at home this time or so we hoped. We tracked contractions through the afternoon while we prepared for the inevitable. Toward five o’clock in the afternoon I contacted the midwife to tell her of our situation. She invited us to come on in. Around that time I finally acknowledged to myself the reality that I would be bringing home a little one sometime soon and that my enormous pregnant belly would be history sooner rather than later. There were some pictures to take before heading to the hospital.

As the evening deepened, the intensity of my contractions strengthened. They stopped me in my tracks. At one point I found myself on the sofa, sitting in tailor’s pose entranced by my socks. At this point we decided to head in to the birth center. On the ride there, the contractions started coming closer together, but when we arrived at the hospital I insisted that I was fine to walk from the parking structure rather than leave the car in the loading zone. That was a struggle. The contractions started coming every minute or so and I would find myself crouching on the ground while my glasses filled with tears. We finally made it up to the birth center where a very sweet Labor & Delivery nurse asked if we were the ones for whom she was waiting. She took one look at me and sat me down in a rocking chair and explained to us why I was experiencing so much pain. She showed me how to breath through each contraction. She seemed to have a mind-meld with Wade and for the next hour he gently guided me each time I forgot to breathe. The midwife checked me and determined that I could stay as active labor had begun and she thought that the baby would be arriving sooner rather than later. They shuffled me off to the shower where I labored under a strong stream of soothing hot water with Wade’s encouragement coming softly from the side.

Eventually I tired of the water as I started feeling cold and agitated. Wade helped me from the shower back to our room where a huge tub of warm water waited. As my labor had advanced significantly, they eventually allowed me into the tub where my labor started with a vengeance. A woman’s labor is the transformation of her body from a closed container to an open vessel. This transformation can take days or minutes. The faster the transformation, the rougher the ride. The 45 minutes I spent in that tub were some of the most physically and mentally challenging minutes of my experience. They were primal. They were raw. They were overpowering and completely human. They took me completely out of myself and were transforming. At the end, I felt the so-called ring of fire, which is aptly named, and was helped out of the tub to the bed where less than 20 minutes later we welcomed Quinn, our daughter.

Each birth is special, but this one was especially special. I learned so much from the entire experience from beginning to end. A few days later we brought her home to the midst of our project and yet everything was perfect. We had the most important things: a healthy family and each other. For a few weeks, we all shared the same bedroom. During the night I would wake to hear the sounds of three sleeping beauties and I felt content. It ended up being a special treat to be able to look out from my cozy spot to see and hear each one. The one whose curious eyes started us along this inevitable path. The one whose glorious laugh fills my days. The one whose dreamy sighs have added such sweetness to the new year.

As far as enjoying this time, we are in a flurry of activity getting CasaWeX into tip-top shape to accommodate another resident. Our house is small and we love it that way plus we live so close to Mom and Dad. We are energized by our proximity to one another, so moving is not really an option. Instead we have to make our casita more efficient. Within the next two weeks we are having some work done to the house to make the children’s room more of the hub of the house. Guess who is coordinating all the contractors? That’s right. Moi. I am not one of those super-outgoing personalities, but I have managed to bring forth my getting-things-done spirit and have arranged the work. My hope is to have the room ready to go at least a month before the due date. Here we go.

Listening to them inspired me to try to do some podcasting myself, and so here I have put together a brief ‘radio’ experiment of my own: Mutant Radio vol. 1. Check it out.

Compared to myself, a marginally talented writer, skilled designer, and person of no particular musical talent, who through hard work (and with the support of family and friends) has achieved some level of accomplishment in each of those fields, my Uncle Vince was a man of towering abilities. It is true that he traveled widely as a young man, playing his guitar and singing across the US and in Europe. But it is more true that had he devoted himself to his artistic pursuits, he could have spent his whole life traveling, and likely achieved great artistic and financial rewards.

I don’t mean to a) seem to be judging him harshly or b) singling him out. But with his passing, we take a moment to reflect on his life, and to me he personifies the greatest and saddest tendencies of that side of my family. It is worth noting mostly as a reflection of our own tendencies, both to appreciate our own special gifts and to remind ourselves that our lives are temporary, and every day that we waste not tapping our potential is a day less of living life to its fullest.

Rest in peace, uncle.

An ambiguous statement, no?

So I asked him ‘Is that good or bad?’ He explained to me that he felt relieved to have a day where the outline for the day was so vague. That it was a relief to have the luxury of getting out the door in such a relaxed fashion. And yet I still feel bedraggled. Today was laid back and relaxed but I am used to spending more time in my fiefdom and less time in the world. So I feel like I need time to reacquaint myself with my home and my sofa and my places of contemplation.

After eating at Hodad’s — unburger with grilled onions, cheese & bacon — I felt like finding a warm corner and curling up for a catnap, not to mention my vague ailments. Sitting on the seawall, surrounded by Nick’s ragtag band of ‘friends’ I felt bogged down by my awareness. Awareness of the moment and of the potential future. That consciousness made me fell tired. Last night talking to our cousin, Geno, I told him that ten or twelve years ago that I was not comfortable* with myself, but that now I am. Yet that comfort does not always work itself into my awareness of the world. So today instead of rolling with the shocks, duck-diving underneath the tremulous waves of reality crashing over us, I stood off to the side, reserved in worry and consternation. ‘Where will this child end up?’, I asked myself.

After a while though, I let go and enjoyed the sun, the sound, the multitudes gathered and felt incredible energy and health. That is where I tried to stay.

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*In the past I when I felt uncomfortable I would look outside of myself and would judge people harshly. ‘That person’s a loser, a wastrel, a drunk, deluded, &tc.’ Now I know I am not above anyone and before I judge, I love. I’m not above anyone and no one that I know can be described solely by such a harsh descriptor. My family possesses incredible capacity for loyalty, for love, for generosity, for nobility, for appreciation. So I do not judge.

I haven’t finished watching the movie, The Secret, — have you watched it yet? — but I have been mulling over the ‘law of atttraction’ and ask->believe->receive. We have neighbors that are very inconsiderate. They have a dog that they rarely pick up after and to say that has soured our relationship is an understatement. I really fixate on this situation because the odor dimishes our enjoyment of our outdoor space. The part of our side yard that is in common with theirs is abandoned. Weeds and grass sprout high. A few years ago we had an 8-foot lattice fence put in to create more distance. At that time we planted jasmine and honeysuckle to fight the stench problem. Wade started to bring the flagstone walkway down that side of the house. But then we just stopped and it is the saddest part of yard right now. But I have requested conscientious, considerate, engaging, gardening, musical instrument (like violin, not drum;) playing neighbors. To that end I have also envisioned the side yard as it will look, so that we can appeal to those types of neighbors. So now I am waiting. I think that energy is what fueled today’s clean up of the front yard. We will also be buying our last King Palm to complete the front yard triad.

Lucas napped during the bulk of our all out attack of the chores. So once we were done, we bundled up and walked down to ‘coffee park’. There were the most kids there that I have ever seen in that spot. Some surmised that it was related to the Veterans’ Day holiday. I dunno, but there were at least 20 youngsters under the age of 6, climbing, screaming, jumping and running in that tiny little tot lot. It was quite a lot of unbridled energy and their play reminded me of a tumble of puppies. Lucas partcipated at the edges. It seems that for now, much like the kids under two, he is content to watch or play in a small mound of sand, singing and kicking to himself.

We stayed until the sun was making its final descent into the horizon — it was a firey end to the day. Then we headed over to a restaurant that is just fabulous. Lucas had the children’s chicken finger plate, Wade had beef bolognase, and I enjoyed some crab cakes and soup. As we finished up, Mom showed up and then a few minutes later so did Dad. Mom had the buffalo mozarella salad and Dad had a glass of Merlot. Then someone mentioned Von’s to Lucas (as a joke) and he was ready to head over there in a flash.

At Von’s they have done something nefarious in order to assure the devotion of their youngest customers. They have a shopping cart with a little plastic car mounted in front. Dad will often take Lucas with him to run errands and through this they have developed a ritual wherein Dad always gets that cart and Lucas is now fixated on riding in this cart. To the point, that when Lucas and Wade went grocery shopping earlier in the week, Lucas told Wade ‘No Wholefoods, Vons!’ because to him grocery shopping is defined by riding in that durn car.

So Mom and Dad headed over to Von’s while Wade and I headed home. Once Mom and Dad arrived, bringing a bottle of yummy port, we sat around and talked. Someone was blowing up a balloon for Lucas and he danced around, tossing the balloon in the air again and again until bedtime came. So I grabbed him and quickly placed him in deshabillé and carried him off for his bath. While I bathed him I could hear Mom’s, Dad’s, and Wade’s voices intertwining. It was sweet moment, bathing my wee one, listening to the progress of their communication, knowing that Lucas will have a far different relationship with his grandparents than I have with mine. I dried him off, dressed him, and he kissed everyone g’night and headed straight for bed with Nanna.
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*inspired by M. Davis