PNewL PNewS Vol. 18 # 3

PNewL PNewS
Volume 18 No. 3 “All the pnews that phits." September 2010


Being at Home

When I moved to Florida, I found there was an actual moment—I remember it specifically: I was riding my bike down Dixie Beach Blvd.—when I felt like I belonged there. I had friends, a routine, I knew my way around the grocery stores, I knew “the back way” off the island, I knew dirt on people. It was home.

When I first moved, Jane said it would take at least a couple years, maybe three, to feel at home. I agree. And it is not like they are tough hard years though there’s some tough and hard, but come to think of it there’s tough and hard in every year anywhere. There’re some lonely, lost times but there’s also the discovery of new things. There’re the times I don’t get lost—when something actually looks familiar. There’s the time the woman at the post office or the man at the fruit stand across the road says, “Hey” like they know me. There’s the time someone at a restaurant or a store asks if I am a local and I say, “Why yes I am.” I pay taxes and everything.

That moment of recognition—the shift from newbie to local—here in Western North Carolina came this summer. It was kind of a relief—I get to take that off the list of things that need to happen. It was also a warm bath, comforting, wonderful moment. It was a confluence of events. We were weathering the hottest summer on record—and we were weathering it together. My friends and neighbors had a “locavore” feast (all the ingredients were to come from no further than 50 miles from Asheville) and I was in the midst of it. When walking the dog, folks would stop to chat—“Good to see you—it’s been a while” (I was in and out of town a lot this summer). While it wasn’t an exact moment, it was a warm fuzzy realization that felt really good.

I had some wonderful out-of-town experiences this summer which I wanted to tell you about too, but it felt more important for me to say here: Hey, I’m home! How cool is that?

Things I am Learning
& Miscellaneous Observations

* Evie had a colonoscopy recently. We had several very funny conversations before during (well, not DURING but there’s a lot of process involved and we compared notes) and after. Recently she sent this email: “I thought you'd appreciate this: a wonderful young doctor who teaches at the Museum of Natural History put out a call for two-liter bottles and other float-ables to construct a boat for the boat float (all have to be made from recyclables). I asked him if he’d like a 4-liter colonoscopy prep bottle. He said, ‘Boy, would I. The kids’ll love that!’ Recycling at its finest!!”

* I had remarkable luck this summer in finding dogsitters. Turns out staying at my house is not a hardship. Kitty came over from “the Triangle,” and got to explore the western part of the state in the company of the large hound. Later, Gini happened to be heading back to Florida and made a several day detour to hang with the big dog. (She said it was a gift!) I am not sure who was luckier, them, me or Sir Baru Bear. Win-win-win!! So that brings me to a trip I reallllly want to and would take if not for the caring and tending of said dog---anyone want to hang out in the wild and willy boonies in late January-early February?

* Another recent discovery in the “young adult” section of the library was “Careers for Introverts and Other Solitary Types” by Blythe Camenson. I couldn’t believe my luck in coming across this about 30 years too late. Turns out I have hit on a couple of them—freelance research, writing. There were a couple suggested I hadn’t gotten to yet: mail carrier, security guards, and one I always wanted to be...a forest ranger! Maybe I will do that next.

* In “French Women Don’t Get Fat,” the author (Mireille Guiliano) says that toddlers laugh 400 times a day and adults only 15. I have been working on that. Frankly, I think having a dog doubles the number right off the bat.

* From an article in “OnEarth” (National Resources Defense Council mag) Spring 2010, page 64: Writer Kim Tingley: “Though I knew [the alligator’s] massive body housed a brain less hefty than a poker chip, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. Most likely, absolutely nothing: alligator’s thoughts are probably “like a dial tone,” (itals are mine because this concept makes me smile, nay..laugh!) a zoologist once told The New Yorker.” I love that. Makes me wonder who else has a dial tone brain.

* If you are looking for a great book on tape, try “The Help” by Kathryn Stockett. Anthony Bourdain’s “A Cook’s Tour : In Search of the Perfect Meal” is another entertaining listen. And “Bait and Switch: The (futile) Pursuit of the American Dream” by Barbara Ehrenreich is pretty depressing but I bet frighteningly close to the current state of the job market. (I find it shocking that folks over FORTY are considered undesirable employees. Ouch!) I am currently reading a very funny (and possibly helpful) book called “How to Get Things Really Flat: Enlightenment for Every Man on Ironing, Vacuuming and other Household Arts,” by Andrew Martin. It is also, by the way, for women (like me) who play the Walter Matthau (slob) part in “The Odd Couple.” I am trying to find the quote about how after four years, the dirt doesn’t get any worse – I may have to re-read it to find it. Meanwhile, it makes me laugh out loud.

* MHN (my initials and those of my sister too) in Greek means “don’t.” Baru (my dog's first name) in Indonesian means “new.” (Thanks Caroline)

* One of my many projects has been an attempt to be more precise about words. I say a lot of I hate this or I love that or I can’t do or I don’t have time and when someone knows me well, this can be interpreted closer to the truth but I say these kinds of things to strangers and they take it literally. Oops. This summer, there were some unfortunate examples of this among family members. I listened to two people tell the same dang story and each of them put their own spin on it and came to really different conclusions. It was such a clear and remarkable example of why it’s realllly important to be very careful about how I say things and to know that the person heard what I said the way I meant it. Be careful out there—it’s a sticky world.

* I made a donation to a non-profit in the envelope supplied by another. I covered the address with a sticker and taped it down. I scribbled over both bar codes on the front of the envelope. Imagine my embarrassment when the envelope provider called to say they had received a check from me but it wasn’t for them. They hadn’t looked at the envelope and were as surprised as I was that they had gotten an envelope that didn’t appear to be addressed to them. Oops..again.

* I don’t recommend buying dog treats or shampoo (or anything else, for that matter) without glasses. The mistakes are…well, there are plenty of them.

* Corked wine or screw top? Our used-to-be locally owned market has been bought out by Whole Foods and so now we are getting little “facts” sheet when shopping—this one from Willamette Vineyards. Cork is renewable, recyclable, bio-degradable. Cork trees live to be 300. Not using cork means I am not supporting the cork growing families. I can recycle them by taking them to the market and they will be sent to Oregon. Hmmm

* Speaking of wine, I went to a tasting the other night (yoga and wine, what a combo!) and learned that some of the major producers do things like add purple coloring to make the color richer and oak powder to give it that on the oak flavor. Yum!

* According to “USA Weekend,” prefab houses (like mine) are now hip and environmentally correct. Ahead of the curve, I am.

The Reluctant Gardener Part II

So there I was—just about to leave town, trying to get all the stuff done that had been lingering for ages: 12 years of photos into albums, multiple loads of laundry and dishes, detailing my car, refolding all my fabric….and the only one I actually got to: weed-whacking some of the jungle. Once again, I tried to be mindful of what I was doing—patient, cutting, experiencing the success, waiting for the bleeping battery in the groovy weed-whacker to die, cursing the sweat that was stinging my eyes, thinking about the poisons that would kill these weeds, the fossil fueled implements of destruction that would handle these issues better than I was. Yes, it is a joy. I love gardening! It brings such pleasure. And I am good at it! (Trying to be positive.) Sigh.

Laurie says I need to deal with the weeds early. I have determined through experience now that she is right. I am going to spend the entire months of March and April from now on prepping the beds because I am NEVER going to do this again. Would someone please remind me I said this when I am making other plans?

Weeds boggle my mind. Isn’t this a survival of the fittest scenario? Doesn’t that mean that I have no chance of beating them? They’ve been doing this for eons. I am 53 years old—what hope do I have? Yes, I have opposable thumbs but my attention span is limited almost as much as my patience. And then I tried to do the right thing. I raked and put down layers of overlapping cardboard covered with several inches of mulch and grasses came up wherever they could. They have tendrils that have locked into wads of mulch. They don’t come up high enough for the weed-whacker to even hit them (is this the fittest part?). Grr. I am leaving town. I can’t watch this anymore. Perhaps it will snow (in September) while I am gone.

On the truly positive side, my raspberry bushes have been very satisfying. I am getting a small bowl of fruit

each morning. It’s a miracle. It makes me think I could do more of this gardening junk if I could get small bowls of yummy every day. Laurie has me planting garlic and then there were cool weather spinach seeds at the nursery. Oh no…here I go.

“Why can’t we get all the people in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn’t work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say goodbye. I hate goodbyes. I know what I need. I need more hellos.” Charles M Schultz