Food for Thought

I guess it's an absolute truth that if you want something done properly you must do it yourself.  I suppose it also rings true that we are what we eat. Criticize a persons food and you might as well criticize them directly. It is also true that not everything should be taken personally. I read that in a book called The Four Agreements. It made sense to me.

In my starring role as mother to my 15 yr old daughter, my main objective is to teach her how to eat. My mother taught me and when I no longer lived with her my stepmother picked up where she left off. They were housewives, mothers of 4 and 5 and they had both been a part of the Diet for a Small Planet movement. They had also been through a war, this effects, probably more than any thing ones relationship to food. They knew about vegetables and whole grains. They baked their own bread and cooked all of our meals. We ate seasonally, my stepmother had her own butcher who she had a really tight relationship with. She cared about the quality of what we ate. As an adult when I visited my mother she still made me all the things I loved, again, it was homemade, seasoned with love and rich in wholesome comfort. Of the 8 living children these two women raised, no one was fat and we are all good cooks.

When my daughter was learning to eat whole food as a baby I remember her hugging me at the dinner table. I would give her a little bite, she would eat it up and then she would hug me. And so, a strong bond was created around nourishment. When she has been away, I tend to want to feed her up when she gets back, to get her back on track. Food is not folly, it is healthy, whole, fresh, and satisfying, designed to build her up. I can't rely on anyone else to do this for her, it is my responsibility alone, it is not a burden, it is my job and I do it willingly with love, good humor and sometimes flair.

Weekend Project

Pearl went off to her dad's this past weekend so that left me and Mark at my place for the weekend. With nowhere to go I decided we should embark on and finish some manageable home improvement project. It's been awhile since we have been in that mode. Eddy was in decline the year before last and after he died Mark started having some serious back issues. Years of lifting the old man caught up with him. So I guess we've been more conscious of our bodies lately, Mark turned 50 in November and I will be joining him this December. We are not the people we once were. To rebuild our building confidence I proposed we construct a small cabinet to fit in the space that was created when I sold my 1940's O'keefe and Merrit stove which was a full 10 inches wider than the new stove. I suggested we should do this project with materials we had on hand, no spending to make it happen. We split up the labor. Mark built the cabinet and I was in charge of the top. We consulted the other one heavily of course. By Sunday night we had the thing built and the top ready to tile. No tile cutter could be scared up from our various neighbors so off we went on Monday to have a shop do it. On the way back we picked Pearl up. Tidy. It appears that President's day has zero effect on trade and commerce. It seems only school children, banks, the post office and graphic designers observe the holiday.

Epilogue
I love this little cabinet. The color of the tile excites me and the fact that I was able to plan and make it reminds me that it feels good to be capable. I'll take more of that please.

It's Here!

Jesus, if it isn't Christmas again. Next to school and summer break, Christmas is my daughters absolute favorite time of year and while I am not prone to overdoing things I try to make it as special as possible for her.  She would have us get a tree directly after Thanksgiving but my waspish reserve dictates we must wait until around the 20th of December. Now that she is older and busier we have to be flexible and look for opportunities to fit it all in. We got the tree on Friday afternoon, we trooped next door to my neighbors personal tree lot and sawed one down with his permission, of course. We decorated it Saturday morning whiling away the time before Pearl's dad came to get her for a weekend visit. As we decorated we talk about the decorations. Where they came from or who made them, which are our favorites and why. We talk about the approach to decorating the tree, the logistics and physics of it. I was not one of those parents who let my kid decorate the tree so this comes up in conversation too. I can't help myself, aesthetics are important to me and yes I am a control freak. Christmas is going to be a bit thinner this year but we'll have fun anyway repeating the old standards and introducing a few new tricks. I'm grateful for my kid, my husband and my improving mental health.

An egg in the hand

Friday today and here's the chicken report. Since building the coop-cage before Christmas I have not lost anymore hens since Gloria the Brahma was so violently eviscerated. I still see traces of his wing feathers near the coop but can't bring myself to pick them up. The hens seem fine without him in fact they are better than fine, they seem a bit kinder to each other, a more cohesive group, no one vying for attention from the fabulous rooster. They are more of a team, even the two little bantam hens are doing well. I set the light timer to come on around 4am about 2 months ago and at 5pm when I lock the hens in I give them some corn to eat before bedtime, to keep them warm during the night which aids in egg production. Since then I have been getting about 4 eggs per day which was my goal. We eat eggs everyday and there are plenty for baking and I can also share some with my tenant when I am away and she tends to the hens.

Today also marks a bit of a milestone as it is the beginning of the last weekend that Mark and I will spend as swinging singles. After this weekend Pearl will be with us more of the time as her dad is leaving the state for work. With all change there is a period of adjustment but I see this as a positive thing as time is such a gift with a growing child. We'll have twice as much weekend play time to see friends and family, go to the movies, hike, shop and chill out.

I had hoped to give up something for lent and I was having trouble defining it but I think I can sum it by saying for lent (and perhaps forever) I want to set free my complicated feelings about the past and go forward without contempt or judgment for the lives of others. It's really quite freeing, happy Spring.

What to Wear

I had a whole rant planned on the failings of clothes for tween girls using these shorts as evidence for my point. But the whole thing just left me empty so this is my message. You can wear these shorts with a tiny tank top all you want as long as you don't leave the yard. Off the property demands that you wear longer shorts and a proper t-shirt. The message here is that while you have a beautiful body you don't need to share it with everyone. Clothes provide helpful boundaries for decorum. Years ago a friends 15 yr old daughter was riding the train to Eugene from Bellingham. She was scantily clad in short shorts, halter top and flip flops. Her mother asked "are you planning on having sex on the train"? Of course the answer was no and so the daughter was sent back to her room to rethink her travel clothes. Sexuality is so out there these days being sold in the form of bikinis and tramp stamps for 5 yr olds. It's confusing for everyone, age appropriate dress is under fire as we are force fed the overt sexuality of youth culture. I am still amazed by grown women in business settings who sport plunging necklines. Breasts are beautiful things but do you really want everyone checking them out while you're delivering a presentation on water safety? You have to ask yourself this.

There, I have officially branded myself as old and conservative, oh well.

Snow Day

It's my moms birthday today, she'd be 80 if she were alive. It was a snow day and Pearl stayed home from school and we took a walk up Bill Sorensons hill and looked out at the Nooksack Valley all covered in snow. I miss my mother deeply but what can you do, you soldier on. The day was lazy. We went to town and got dog food and ice cream and ran into a few people we know at the grocery store. It felt good to be a part of this little town. There were several kids from Pearls class in the grocery store and she met them with hugs and genuine hellos. We rented a movie and came back home and sat on the couch under a brand new quilt sent to us by Pearls great grandmother, Noni, from her birth family, a lovely woman who was there when Pearl became our child. She was so gracious in a really difficult moment, this quilt is a beautiful metaphor for all the unique members of the family and how we all fit together. My mom died the year before Pearl was born, that loss was partly what motivated me to initiate the adoption. I was suddenly aware how short time was. I needed to move forward. I was lucky, I had a really good mother and even though she's gone I am fortunate to have many amazing women in my life who instruct and inspire me. So Happy Birthday Mom, I miss you and I'm okay. xox

Thursday

So god-damned black out this morning and wet, like the inside of a dead cow complete with matted fur laying upside down in a deep ditch, half submerged. I turned my light on at 6am in an effort to pull myself up out of the dream I was having which I have no memory of now. I wrote about the darkness, what else is there to write about? Thankfully Pearl was cheerful at 6:30 when her alarm drew her out of her little cave across the semi hall. She poked her head around the corner of my closet and mumbled hello. I said, I am having trouble getting up when she returned with a tada around the corner 10 minutes later, naked with her head wrapped in a towel. I was grateful I would only have to motivate myself into action. I made the bed, an act which seems to help sort me out in the morning and she instructed me to start the eggs. Roger. I got dressed in basically the same clothes I have been wearing since Monday night when I last showered. They get so nice and soft I reasoned and I lack the mental capacity to choose a whole new outfit most mornings. By the time we left for school the sky was barely beginning to lighten and I commented on how it felt like the middle of the night. We are sleepwalkers, dreamily feeling our way around in the dark. I know the light will return and so its all okay.

Two of Me

Self portrait through the main sail

I feel I lead a strange life. I have the tendency to regress on the weekends I spend with my husband Mark at his house. I arrive late afternoon on Friday and have a few drinks, we talk like maniacs because we haven't seen each other and we drink a little more. I keep my laptop on my lap the whole time, looking at Facebook, reading a little, surfing for crap I don't need and can't afford like mini well designed module house pods that I fancy for the back of my property. mark does the cooking and has to demand I close my laptop and come to the table to eat. I do, but I eat fast and then dive back onto the couch before he gets a chance to occupy it. Occasionally I whine at him that we never go out and do anything before I pass out.

In the morning I wake early and try to get mark to wake up too. I tell him we should go and play tennis while it's still cool. Pearl is with her dad and we could just slip off to the courts for an hour but we don't. We stay in bed and do bed things and watch Looney Toons and I fall back asleep and forget all about the list of things I wanted to do at 5:30am when I first became conscious. We're up by 10 and back on our computers, searching for everything and nothing. Sometimes I write or walk the dog.

Last weekend we sailed. We took Mark's little boat from Jericho Beach all the way across English Bay to Lighthouse Park. I made sandwiches and we shared a bottle of cider. It was a picture perfect day. the wind was unusual coming out of the southwest which is why we took the course we did. We sit side by side on the boat leaning in or out, depending on the force of the wind, it's like dancing. Mark mans the tiller and the main sail while I am in charge of the jib, centerboard and cooler. A clear division of labor. We chat away as we go, about the other boats we encounter or the seabirds. Sometimes we sail very close to the enormous freighters at anchor in the Bay. We read the place names and marvel at a life at sea. We are quiet and enjoy our time in the salt air.

By Sunday night I am getting itchy and irritable. Pearl is not with us and despite how easily I drift into that state of non-responsibility I am hardwired to be a mother now. If she has been away for more than three nights I begin to have dreams about her that are filled with perilous situations. On Monday I say good-bye to Mark and it's sad, I hate leaving. Once back at home with Pearl I feel better again. We get caught up on our weekend events and make a plan for the week. Last Monday I surprised myself by cooking up a storm on her behalf. I made pizza dough from scratch, fresh pesto and the special little muffins she likes. Watching her eat a big piece of whole wheat bread slathered in pesto makes me happy and my nerve endings relax. I know my job and I am at my best when I am doing it.

No Problem

It was my birthday on Saturday. It was a sunny day and I listened to the Beatles, Good Day Sunshine, it was nice. A friend called to extend to me some birthday wishes and we talked for a bit and then she asked about my feelings around my birthday. I told her I felt okay, and I do. I have never been a person who needed a lot of recognition around my birthday. Certainly I like a little and I seem to get it. This year was no exception. There was some build up, some plans for fun and a meal, some anticipation around gifts. I had been working a bit feverishly up until my birthday and I had to take care of some details on my birthday and then I had just had to work like a demon the next day. That was okay. There was one strange little thing that happened though. A few days before my birthday I got thinking about my mother and started to feel pretty sad. I miss her a lot and somehow the whole birthday thing feels a bit lonely without a call from her. There is nothing to do about it. I had a little weep away from everyone who might hear me and went on with my day. Pearl baked me a cake and neighbors came over for drinks and I made a nice dinner for us.

Of course it is a strange business getting older. You gain things and lose things as time marches on pulling us along with it. I did what I could to stay young. I started school early so I was younger than my classmates, I dated older men so that I was always younger by contrast but these days things seem to be evening out. Mark is only a year older than me and for the first time in my life most of my friends are about my age. I have some younger people in my life too and I enjoy being able to offer words of advice based on longer experience. I don't hate my body, in fact I think I look pretty good for my age. I am comfortable with where I am in my life and who I am as a 46 year old woman. So to answer that question again, I have no trouble with my birthday, with the mechanics of it at any rate. I am looking forward to the future but I do miss the past a little as well.

Motherhood Moments

As I tucked Pearl into bed last night she told me that one of the things she liked best about me was that she could talk to me about anything. Wow! That is a compliment to be proud of. Then we talked about dreams and what they might mean and how interesting it is to have a brain and to be able to think all the thoughts we think. I was practically breaking my arm slapping myself on the back for my awesome mothering prowess. Then riding the good vibe wave she asked if she could wear make-up in middle school. Slap down. Not quite the elevated spiritual ending I was hoping for. We'll talk about it, and we will because that is what we do.

Learning to be Sick

The patient patient

As a mom and more importantly, as a human being, I feel it is important to know how to be sick. Pearl is sick right now, she is on day three of a fever. Her spirits are excellent and I think I owe this in large part to how I approach being sick. When she was little and threw up for the first time instead of freaking out that this alien substance had just propelled itself up and out of her, we took a moment. She looked at the pool of barf on her bedroom floor and wanted to know what it was. Just short of getting a pointer and actually poking around in it, we observed together the undigested kernels of corn and bits of burger she had just eaten for dinner. The dog sniffed at it and then I cleaned it up. Since then she has thrown up a few times and bounces back really well even using the experiences against me, recalling the times I made her sick by feeding her something that was off. She laughs about it and when she has to barf she gets to the bathroom lickety-split. It's a problem to be dealt with and moved on from.

I am teaching her that being sick means you get to lay on the couch, watch your favorite movies and be waited on. There are some responsibilities, you have to brush your hair and your teeth and keep your jammies fresh so as not become too crusty. Yesterday I introduced her to trashy magazines, she found some 3D glasses in Entertainment Weeky and read the article about Monsters and Aliens. Occasionally she has a weak moment and whines something like "why is this happening to me?" and I try to remind her that the fever serves a purpose and that it will eventually pass. I also keep a box of articulated straws on hand which makes drinking endless cups of ice-water seem more pleasant. And there is the constant love and comfort of your mom. I check on her all the time and get her whatever she needs no questions asked.

Today when she gets up she will watch her favorite kids shows then I will have her stand in the shower and steam herself for a bit. We'll watch Nancy Drew (it's a favorite) and maybe Mama Mia, again. Later on if she is feeling up to it we'll play some checkers. She is learning that getting better takes time and it can be enjoyable even when you feel seriously awful which she does.

Remembrance

My mother on castle rock in Edinburgh Scotland in her 20's, circa 1950

Today marks the 12th anniversary of my moms death. It's a day of remembrance and reflection. It's easy to elevate the dead, to canonize them to the level of sainthood. She was not a saint of course but she was a really good mother. The thing I am most grateful to her for is that she was always herself, fiercely so. When I was a kid, parents didn't bend over backwards the way they do today to entertain their kids or offer them greater opportunities than they had themselves. I didn't have swimming lessons, I wasn't a Brownie, I never learned to play the piano.

I am the youngest of 4 children and when I was small before I went to school I just hung out with her as she went about her life. Lucky for me she was a really interesting person. She gardened, and painted, she sewed and skied. She went to Keep Fit class and she was a member of a weavers guild. I went everywhere with her and I saw her as a person, not just my mother. I knew her wittiness, her sadness, and her wickedness. She was strong and fit and beautiful and she protected me. She was a lioness, a goddess, she was vulnerable and unapologetic.

I have modeled myself after her in many ways particularly in my parenting style. I am a no-nonsense mom, firm but fair, I want to share my love for the world with Pearl. I also want her to know me, the good and the bad, the contradictions and the convictions. I want Pearl to know that my love is unconditional and immense but I also want her to understand my limits and my weaknesses. My greatest regret about losing my mom so early is that she did not get to see me be a mother, and that she never got to meet Pearl. I could cry for a week about that. Mostly though, I just feel lucky that I had her in my world for as long as I did and for all the gifts she gave me, the greatest being the purity of her love for me.

Monopoly with Minors

Pearl often reported playing board and card games over at her dad's place and I got to feeling that I wanted a bit of that action. She loves playing a game and I figured it's a small thing for me to calm myself down, put aside what I am working on and play a round of Candyland now and then. I have played my share of games but I generally avoid them. Playing games you have not played before means reading and understanding directions, this means slowing down long enough to absorb and process new information, an activity I generally try to get paid for. Some games are easy to master and can be fun. I was okay at Trivial Pursuit, I hated Pictionairy, it was too much like charades which felt like drama and I am not interested in performing anymore than I have to to get through the day. Scrabble is of course the king of games and I will gladly drop everything to spend 3 hours playing. Pearl has become really good at it too so I am happy to play that with her but it's not a naturally attractive game for kids. How many of you played the game of Life endlessly because of that clicking spinner, I can still hear it. I dont consider Operation or Moustrap actual games, they are primarily physical amusements.

As Pearl gets older I am recognizing the importance of having activities we can do together beyond watching endless TV. She is in that in-between stage wanting more independence but still needing so much comfort and reassurance. To this end I got us a brand spanking new Monopoly game. Pearl was delighted and we spent the last two evenings playing until she bankrupted me with a hotel on St Charles Place. I was concerned that some of her knowledge of the rules might be a bit sketchy. I had never read the directions for Monopoly, learning to play as a kid from my older siblings and friends, I assumed I knew how to play. I read them tonight and realized there was a whole level of play I had never experienced. I was just all about rolling the dice and staying out of jail. Armed with this new info, my trusty banker at my side I think we can play some epic games.

Death in the Family

Some of the cousins, circa 1973. Anne is seated in front of my mother. My dad is not pictured, but Jim is. We are the children.

Am back home after 4 days at Mark's place. I dropped Pearl at school and now I am trying to warm up the house and office. It's always a bit lonely and dark when I first get back home. Today is a little worse as I am reflecting on the recent death of Anne Ironside. Thoughts of death and loss abound. I'm tripping on them.

She is not technically my aunt. One of our long-running family exchanges featured this discussion about how we called them Uncle Jim and Aunt Anne for convenience and we would lapse into the discussion of the second cousins once removed thing which was the accurate description of our familial relationship. Jim is my dad's first cousin and I think their relationship was more brotherly, they have always stayed connected, their mothers were sisters. They both went to the University of Edinburgh. Jim was a surgeon, my dad went into Anesthesia. Jim married Anne after he moved to Vancouver in the 60's and she is the mother of my two girl second cousins, Andrea and Cybele. Andrea is my age and I have always known her. So Anne was my second cousins wife and she died on Saturday of complications associated with liver disease, many sad complications. She was 72.

Today I am wading around in this knowledge that she is gone and now Andrea is just like me, motherless. It was hard to call her to offer consolation because really there is nothing that can console this particular loss. You feel it in your body, in your DNA, in your womb, your bloodstream, around our brains, and in our lungs. It's so deep and feels so endless and enormous. A big empty hole blasted through your whole being.

Gently, somewhere in the journey of this horrendous realization, the pain steps away and in it's place is love and deep human connection. It hurts so much and is simultaneously so beautiful.

New Chapter, Same Story

Becky and Pearl

My daughter was adopted by me and my now ex-husband when she was 2 days old. We had been married for about 1o years when it became fairly obvious we were not going to get pregnant on our own. Being a pragmatist and also fiscally conservative I saw my options narrow quite comfortably to adoption, open adoption. I knew that by choosing adoption it was a matter of when not if. I set us on our course in fall of 1997 the year my mother died and miraculously by July 18th of 1998 we had our lovely daughter Pearl.

Ours is an open adoption and we see Pearl's birthmother, Becky a few times a year, mostly here but occasionally in Eugene where she lives with her partner. As I reported earlier this month Pearl's dad and his wife have just had a baby and now Becky is pregnant too. Babies, babies everywhere.

Becky came up this weekend to tell Pearl the good news in person and to see her new baby brother. We had a nice visit and when it was time for Becky to leave she and Pearl stood locked in a hug on the driveway. I was saying things like have a safe drive and call us when you get there. Pearl was answering for Becky in the plural, we will mom. I realized she was pretending that she was leaving with Becky. I think this is my biggest fear as a mother in this equation that one day Pearl will pack up and return to her biological family. I realize I am selling myself short in this fantasy and not seeing all the subtleties of the open adoption relationship.

Ideally Pearl sees no boundaries in the families she lives amongst, she sees them as a continuous loop winding around her not individual closed loops as I have had the tendency to see them . Her relationship with Becky will change as Becky's family grows and as Pearl matures. I will not be left behind as my fear suggests, I will remain her safe harbour, the one person who has not made any changes in my original commitment to her, to be here just for her until the day I die. My roll is less glamorous, I have no siblings to offer, I am not a fantasy compiled of occasional weekend visits. She will know me better than anyone, the good and the horrible, the inconsistent and the whacky. At times I feel sort of invisible in the equation but to Pearl I am the thread that holds her whole universe together, the person who makes it all happen and the person who makes it all feel okay. All the rest of it is just the marvelous fabric that makes up the story of her life.

A New Era

The big news in our lives this week is that Pearl has a new baby brother thanks to her dad and stepmom. She is totally smitten with the little guy and it reminds me of the sweet slow times when Pearl was small. It's going to be a big adjustment for her as she takes for granted her position at the center of the universe. Hopefully she can be helpful and not resentful and not get to feeling too looked over. Who knows maybe it's the best thing to happen to a pre-adolescent child, to have the attention taken off you while you sort out who you are. I think she'll be a great big sister as she is naturally bossy and who better to boss than a smaller brother. My own feelings aside, and they are plentiful and contradictory, this is a new life to be celebrated and welcomed into the larger expanded family that connects the past to the future.

Too Much Information

Part of being the superhuman mother that I am is my ability to respond quickly to my child's queries. Take tonight at dinner for example. I had just finished eating my dinner (7-10minutes max) and I was settling in to keep Pearl company while she finished hers (10-55minutes min) and I casually mentioned that I had just started my period. Yes it's true we superhuman women can feel the exact moment the uterus lets go of its lining. Pearl asked me what it felt like and I tried to describe it in simple, not too graphic terms. Immediately she had some questions about pads vs tampons, that thing with the string hanging out was what she said. Before I know it we are up from the table and in the bathroom and I am explaining to her how tampons function, how you tear the wrapper open and which end is up. I love the teachable moment. She stops me, she needs clarification on where everything comes out, pee, poop, babies, blood. I can see she is unclear about the logistics of this new information and I feel scared, we need pictures, I start screaming, where is the book?, where is the book? I bought her an age appropriate book last Christmas about all this stuff and was secretly hoping she would take it into her room and emerge a few years later with all her questions answered. I toss the now open and plunged tampon in the trash and suggest she get back to her room temperature rice. I tried.

Decade

Mark, Pearl and the Whales enjoy a dip in Centennial Pool

It is a tad rainy today but for 6 days previous to today it has been absolutely, top-shelf summer fun. I do hate to go on about the good time I am having, but what else do I have to talk about? I am all out of misery. Can't muster a grumble, a snear, not even a little pout.

It started last Saturday with a little sail in Mark's boat up at Jericho Beach in Vancouver. The wind was consistent and we happily tacked back and forth in the bay. At one point we were out pacing a wind-surfer which pleased Mark tremendously. After retrieving Luna from the dog day care we ended up at Moderne Burger for some restorative protein. This place makes a great burger platter and has been closed due to renovations for the past 18 months. We had a serious jones.

Tuesday found us celebrating Canada Day with a parade that came conveniently close to the townhouse. We were at the end of the parade route and all the floats got backed up in front of us. It was cool at first seeing the displays up close but it soon became awkward, we had to keep waving to the the now stationary patriots.

It was really nice and hot. Pearl ran wild in the complex play area and mid afternoon we hit the local outdoor pool. I think Canada may be a more civilized country because of the easy access to parks and facilities. The Centennial Pool was recently widened and spiffed up. We all took turns on the rope swing. That was a personal reminder that I am a sad, weak-armed softy. I can't really make out the form my body took as it skidded along the surface of the pool before crashing in, hippo comes to mind. I am trying not to think about it. Pearl was graceful going in. Mark made us all laugh by employing some small plastic whales as flotation devices clenched in his freakishly long toes.

Finished the catalog and am now embarking on a web project and new Coupon Book cover. Samuels sign is in the process of going up. I am continuing to feel light and open, ideas around every corner.

Pearl turns the BIG 1-0 shortly. Big pause here as I try to organize my thoughts to say something really profound (feel free to get up and refresh your drink) but ultimately it changes everyday and I am just getting better at how I react to the ebb and flow. She's a really nice human being and I am trying to do her justice.

No subject

It's been a few days since I have had a coherent thought to blog about.

The first 3 days of school vacation went well. I was relaxed fully in mom mode, making plans for what we can do this summer while I juggle working 5 hours per day. I think it's going to be fine.

I am at Mark's currently I just had to snap this photo of our precious German engineered hound who follows me around a little too faithfully. Above her is a recently rescued painting I did in art school (400 hundred yrs ago). We got a call or an email perhaps a few months back from my step mother asking that I or Mark stop by to collect the residue of my early art school days. I was vaguely horrified at seeing all that stuff again but I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. Mark picked this blue faced guy to put on the wall in the spare room where I work and I sort of like him. My natural tendency is to hate or be highly critical of anything I made during the 80s but this sort of fits in here and reminds me of the painting class where I produced it. We met in an annex building down the street from my college in downtown Los Angeles and we did a new painting every class. It was really fun, we went through tons of canvases. Maybe for a summer activity Pearl and I can take turns painting one another.

Redemption

I was redeemed on Tuesday after my bad mothering morning. I took Pearl to the field after school for a little forced labor. She planted a huge row of carrots, spinach and radishes and on our way home I asked her if she wanted to eat at Nina's Cafe. She answered almost vibrating "you are the best mom ever".

There you have it, redemption. All it took was a little understanding and some fried food.

_