Tomatoes, Etcetera

I just finished Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, the book I bought at the airport to make myself feel better about leaving Ohio. It's part food diary, part farm journal, part family memoir, all focused on the year her family ate (almost) entirely locally. BK is one of my favorite nonfiction writers, for sure, and this one especially hit a nerve. Toward the end of the book, she addresses the difficulty in leading people to recognize the gravity of global warming, etc., without overwhelming them to the point of deciding that it's too far gone, and nothing they can do matters anyway. The narrow clearing of hope between cynicism and apathy.

The book sufficiently inspired me to ask for those Mother's Day tomato plants. It's as much about the eating local thing (not really all that hard to do in Southern California; we could go to a Farmer's Market any day of the week) as it is about the doing something myself thing. We're sold so much convenience these days, from fast food to disposable diapers to prebaked, presliced loaves of bread. While reading A,V,M, I remembered the advice John Ortberg passed along from one of his spiritual mentors in an old Christianity Today article: “You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life, for hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our world today.” While there are certain conveniences/luxuries I cling to happily - and I don't just mean indoor plumbing and electricity, I'm talking cell phone and TiVo - I do wonder if I'm missing out on something important by turning over so many essentials to the professionals, if I'm losing the sanctity of time by "saving" it.

I'm currently on a bake bread once a year schedule. One of the things the Kingsolver family did/does is bake all of their own bread using a bread machine. When they go to the store, they don't purchase the stuff that's been baked in a factory, sent through an automated slicing machine, wrapped in plastic, and delivered by diesel truck to the chain grocer near you. They buy flour and yeast. And then they spend a few minutes every other day or so tossing a handful of ingredients into that thing most people have hidden in their basements. They live in a place blessed with the scent of freshly baked bread (which is, to my imagination, the perfume of heaven). Surely, the trade off is worth it? The time spent, (the money saved)?

Of course, as I go about doing research on bread machines and nervously tending my vegetables (I have a poor track record keeping things that utilize photosynthesis alive), I still never keep up with my share of the household chores. Baking bread, even with the assistance of a bread machine, is romantic and fun. Finally getting around to cleaning those windows is not. I should work on my basic housekeeping skills before I invest in the 20lb bag of whole wheat flour. But locating that narrow clearing of hope in the midst of all that there is to fear in this world surely must require regular servings of joy. If I can keep those tomatoes alive until August, they will not just be another humdrum afterthought to toss in the salad. They will be MY TOMATOES that I grew MYSELF in conjunction with SUN and WATER and SOIL. I will rejoice.

I don't want to waste all my time by saving it. It isn't the life I want, and it isn't the life I want for Juliette. I want to ruthlessly eliminate hurry, and selectively replace convenience with joy.

(p.s., Tomorrow is the day we're on our own with the cloth diapers. I think the rejoicing in that business comes once she's potty trained...)

Happy Mama Day

I got what I wanted for Mother's Day - six tomato plants and a page of poems from Ben.

I realized today that Juliette is the beautiful change for which I hoped.

We're still recovering from a splendid trip to Ohio. It's amazing how much we packed in to eight days: the Jawbone Poetry Reading, the May 4th Commemoration, seeing my friend Leah for the first time in nearly six years, Rebecca and David's beautiful wedding, and family, family, more family.

The Willis Girl Trifecta and our Sestine...

Three Months

Louise

When I was sixteen years old, I decided that if I ever had a daughter, I wanted to give her the middle name Louise.

When I was sixteen years old, you see, my mother's best friend, Louise Trotter, was killed in a car accident.

I loved Louise. A lot. Although I've thought about her more than ever over the past year, I've been surprised to realize that I don't remember nearly as much about her as I would have thought. I remember her distinctive voice, her hearty laugh, her sparkly eyes. But most of all I remember how happy my mother would be whenever she came to visit. My mama is a pretty happy person to begin with, but when Louise came to town they would laugh and talk for hours, and the whole house would be filled with joy.

Louise was a musician; she and my parents met in band at Ohio State University. She also had a doctorate in children's literature, and taught reading to elementary school children. At her memorial, in the midst of such grief and shock, I remember staring at the cross in the sanctuary and thinking: I can't have known Louise and not make my life worth something. I didn't feel I had to do something big; I felt I had to do something important, and that it should definitely have something to do with words and stories and laughter and music.

I hope that Juliette Louise's life is filled with words and stories and laughter and music. And wonderful friends. Which is to say I hope that her life is filled with joy, just like our house was when her namesake visited.

Random is the Best I Can Do

1. Though no longer a fangirl, I am unusually invested in Mariah Carey's success. When I was thirteen or so, and exceedingly into M.C. (oh, how I loved "Emotions"), my Mama made some comment about how she was a flash in the pan. Apparently she just surpassed Elvis for #1 singles. So there, eghch!

2. The phrase "so there, eghch!" is what Willis girls say to one another to make a point. I might not have the spelling quite right.

3. Ben and I are completely immersed in the mafia right now. Er, mafia entertainment, that is. We're one disc into the first season of the Sopranos, and since I realized pretty quickly how lame it is to watch the Sopranos without the benefit of having seen the Godfather(s) I, II, and III, we're working on those, too. I figured I might as well toss Goodfellas on the queue, too. You got a problem with that?

4. I was politely reminded this week that I am a wee little fish in a not particularly large pond. Rejection stinks.

5. Lest anyone was on pins and needles about our diapering decisions, we've opted to go with a cloth diaper service, at least for the time being. It is a little more expensive than disposables and a lot more expensive than washing cloth diapers ourselves, but we've decided that it's worth it. And while every system has its environmental impact, Dydee Diaper processes the diapers using a little less than one toilet flush of water per day per baby, and delivers them to our doorstep using a vehicle that runs on natural gas. Plus, they're a local company in an industry that is all but extinct. (If any local readers ever decide to contract with DDS, tell them I sent you and I'll earn a free week!)

6. To offset the diaper expense, we made another decision: to cancel our subscription to the LA Times. But have no worries, we're not giving it up. We realized that we could just as easily buy it while we're out walking Atticus each morning; there's a Seven Eleven just a wee bit further than we usually go. We'll save a chunk of change on delivery costs, and still have it in time for breakfast.

7. Atticus. He's a good dog with a seriously unpleasant, though thankfully not life-threatening, condition. I won't go into the details because they are just too gross, but he'll be having a little surgery next week which will hopefully improve the quality of life of our whole household.

8. Diapers and mystery dog surgery: my blog is simply FASCINATING these days.

9. Perhaps this will make up for it. I made a baby and a sweater:

April Fool

Google didn't get me this year, but man oh man, Marketplace just did. I can't believe I believed that the IRS was sending air conditioners and snow blowers instead of "economic stimulus checks" to families who were flagged as likely to spend their checks to pay off debt.

Pretty Pictures

Ben's dad gave us a surprise gift: a family membership to the South Coast Botanic Gardens. We took our first of many visits yesterday. It's a playground for an aspiring photographer. (If only I could really learn how to use the digital SLR and break out of automatic mode.)




The rest of the best are on my Flickr account - accessible via sidebar.

(And I really will start writing again soon. Promise.)

p.s. Life is good.

Adorable Baby Alert!

Juliette is officially not the youngest cousin anymore. Charles Oscar was born on Wednesday! Congratulations to Marie, B.J., and Lillian!

Oh Charlie, I can't wait to meet you.