Salutations to Summer

It's time. Summer is drawing to a close and those cooler cozy evenings are creeping into the picture. I get home and it still smells and feels like those dog-days of summer as I come in still adorned with summery skirts and flip flops, anxiously reaching for the thermostat to drop the temperature and crank the air conditioning if only for one more week, but when I leave my house first thing in the morning, it smells like autumn. Of course, the weather forecasts are still saying mid-eighties all week and lows only in the low-seventies, but I know September means hay-rides and trees turning colors and quite frankly, they can't fool me, as I already know that autumn is in full blown splendor in less than a month, so it can't always be summer.

When I leave the house in the morning, I look on my deck and see my stack of logs left from a warm winter and my woody rosemary plant that is longing to be thrown alongside new potatoes for a fun roast once the temperature cools enough to justify turning on the oven, and I have to smile for my favorite season is on its way.

So as I feel the cooler breezes and acknowledge that summer is slowly leaving the picture, global warming or not, I will still relish these final moments before the northern hemisphere succumbs to the warming tones and cooling feel of autumn and all those heart-warming moments that ensue. Salutations to summer and hail to the oncoming autumn!

Dreaming about the Sunset

So as I end perhaps the most slow yet relaxing week I have had in a long time, I sit here rapidly typing away on my ergonomic keyboard, dreaming about the sunset. It is so warm, so calming, so inviting; it doesn't judge or pre-qualify you to receive its rays or colorful display. Evenly and carefully it showers the earth and its inhabitants with an equal distribution of light and time. Time, that never seems to allow me to get where I want to go or time enough to enjoy today without worrying about plans for tomorrow.

I spoke today with my husband's mentor, Randy, who asked how things were going and I commented that I recently made a very decided course of action and eliminated my educational schedule for fall and ended relationships in a couple of student organizations I was volunteering with and I have found that my stress levels were profoundly different. I told him that I felt like a new person and I was indeed happy for the change. He reminded me that some of those "duh" things we know soon become forgotten and neglected and when we are reminded of them they become "aha" things. Simple life facts: don't put too much on your plate, take time to smell the roses/coffee/hummus, exercise regularly, don't consume too much caffeine and so forth, and gradually get forgotten. Refocusing on the important things in life recently has really allowed me to take those "aha" thoughts and put them in practice and I think it makes all the difference.

As I count down the hours until sunset and the time Joshua will return I look forward to reminding him of those "aha" basics and encouraging him to savor the long weekend getaway we have planned outside of the city. Perhaps I will get him to sit with me in the hammock and watch the sunset, just as I have been dreaming, ever since he left.

Yabba-Dabba-Do

I have a confession: I eat Flintstones children's vitamins.

I think it began last March when my husband and I committed to a lengthy fast and we needed vitamins and minerals during that time to sustain us and no other brand did not require you to consume with food.

But then the fast was over and there were vitamins left over and since I'm Dutch and we can't waste...

But now I love them. I twist open the child-proof top shake one colorful shapely vitamin and look: will I get orange, purple, red? will I get Fred, Bam-Bam, Wilma? how bad would it be if I take two?

If they don't want you to eat them, they shouldn't make them so darn tasty.

Being a Pythagorean

I recently recommitted my lifestyle and diet to living healthfully. As I am rounding the two and a half year mark of a marriage to a steak-and-potato Texan who, quite frankly, doesn't notice when I don't include animal proteins or starchy spuds has faithfully encouraged me to return to my plant-based roots and go vegan. This encouragement has resulted in much study and reference into several texts that have resulted in new revelations about dietary health and its corresponding roots.

One of these such "revelations" has been the discovery that they used to call vegans "Pythagoreans" after the Greek philosopher who plagued young middle-school geometry students with the a² + b² = c² theorem. Gratefully, his lesser achievement were studies on beans and cabbage and the diets that could abound from them. His strict adherence to a meatless diet created a secret society following in his school and a lack of provision of meat therein. This title lasted two and a half millenia until 1847, at which the Vegetarian Society of the United Kingdom convened and the used the Latin "vegetus" meaning "whole, sound, fresh, lively" to create "vegetarians", under which both lacto-ovo vegetarians and vegans alike were categorized [My thanks to the International Vegetarian Union for the tip!].

Also in the history books of vegetarian and veganism is a little church in industrial England whose pastor, Reverend William Cowherd, challenged his congregation to take a vow to refrain from consumption of meat. As an incentive, he provided free vegetable soup to the small gathering whose economic hardship encouraged them toward such practical support. In his congregation was another budding reverend who set sail for Pennsylvania in 1817 to promote the lifestyle and his two initial converts were the fiery preacher and raw foods enthusiast who created the Graham cracker, Sylvester Graham and Bronson Alcott, who was the first to attempt a vegan community in America and was father to Louisa May Alcott (author of Little Women) [Becoming Vegan by Drs. Davis & Melina, 2000]. Small world, eh?

So, before you stick your foot in your mouth about vegans and their focus on healthy and rigid dietary standards, be grateful for the pioneers who focused on whole grains, raw foods and introducing Sylvester Graham to vegetarianism so he could create the drawing board for your campfire goodness staple: the s'more.

Getting Stuck

Nothing is worse than running out to your car at 4:55 on Friday afternoon after a long and grueling week, throwing in your platter from the carrot cake muffins you brought in for your co-workers, the box of recyclables that was stored under your desk all week and your heavy book-bag for all those texts you didn't indulge in during your lunch break and then ... nothing. Your car doesn't start. How wretched is that?!

Your co-worker's husband is nice enough to open the hood, look through the manual and hypothesize with you over probabilities, but nothing. You get back to your office to call roadside assistance, but all the car shops are closed, because as you and I well know, car emergencies only occur between 9 and 5. Duh.

So, it's 5:35 on my Friday evening and I'm waiting to hitchhike my way home, instead of flopping on my couch with my September Bon Appetit. How droll.

My Dinner Menu

One can of black olives (large, pitted)
+ Two eggs, poached with salt and pepper
+ One bowl of plain yogurt with honey and frozen strawberries
+ Half a handful of dry roasted peanuts
+ One slice of carrot bread with buckwheat, wheat germ, oatmeal and molasses
= Time to go grocery shopping. Big time.

Waiting for Tomorrow

I think perhaps the only predicament about counting down is finally arriving. As a fully recovered former vegan, sometimes it was just the anticipation of nibbling on that rack of ribs or chocolate cake that was enough. Just the smell, just the thought of the taste, just the memory of savoring it in my mouth was enough. As Joshua and I finally count down what we believe to be our last two months of obligatory military service, it is almost crippling how much we yearn for tomorrow. Perhaps we should be savoring these final moments of job security, these last few paychecks, the last couple of days without having to pick out what to wear to work. I'm sure my husband will not concur to this since his alarm goes off at 4:10am and he prepares for the day, leaving twenty minutes later, his last act is to come kiss me and tell me goodbye and let me know (kindly) that I have two more hours before my alarm goes off.

When I look at his exhaustion, his tired soul, the worn down fight, I realize perhaps everything will be better when that final date comes. As I sat studying last night in the studio, Joshua sat on the couch doodling and he kept writing "55" over and over again. I turned from my case study analysis and asked if that was what were living for now. His eyes got wide and very firmly said, "YES". The resolve I now find in him seems to be solely focused on his exeunt and a returning to how he thought adulthood life was going to be.

There is something so overwhelmingly oppressive about his working environment. The leadership he is under is simply tyrannous and corrupt. Fight for my country? Yes. Defend freedom? Yes. Protect American citizens? Yes. Work 90 hours a week in a small hot room under sea-level filled with jet-fuel fumes and mold? No. Accept leadership position and become responsible for the rebellious acting-out of my constituents and take the brunt of the verbal and emotional abuse that is incurred as a result? No. Miss your wedding anniversary, your birthday and all major holidays without overtime or other morale compensation? No.

There apparently was never the option to draw a line in the sand, and say "enough is enough" instead a "you signed the line, you do the time" policy has been put in place. And now finally, we have suffered enough, and we are done. The anticipation is NOT enough, nor are we close enough or are we getting there fast enough. For the next 55 days, Joshua will be either on duty or underway 39 of them, without a single step in his house for a single moment of peace.

The pain is now severe, the insult is irrevocable, the anticipation is mounting and the hours still tick slowly by. But we continue to count down because we know it is yet forthcoming. Relief is available if only we reach the finish line still standing...

It is as Joshua has told me many times over: "It won't always be this way".

Ode to My Mother (On her Birthday)

Mum:

This birthday cake is lots of fun.

You must chew it 'ere you're done.

It was made with memory of Grandma Sally,

With extra nutmeg, so don't you dally!

'Fourteen Karat Cake' is the only B-day cake,

A specialty tis' true, but with lots of love it's baked.

Michelle will help you celebrate tonight,

And for Thanksgiving, I will book your flight.

Grandma Magill's Cranberry Salad we'll make,

and an over-consumption of turkey we'll undertake.

But don't you blink, for Dad will soon be here,

His birthday you will celebrate with lots of cheer!

Of course, for his birthday, only 'German Chocolate' will do,

And with that chocolate, lots of kissing will ensue.

So, happy birthday, Mum, this cake is just for you!

Just the Two of Us

I recently found an old girlfriend online who, a couple of years ago, birthed a beautiful baby boy. My usual reaction to this is to high-five my husband, who will inevitably sing: "Another one bites the dust" as we giggle and laugh and think how happy we are to be without strings right now, as most of our newlywed friends have become pregnant over the last several months. However, this time was different:

This last week, the temperature in Virginia Beach was a remarkable stunning 108. I very much dislike being uncomfortably warm, I am not a huge fan of summer, my cars do not have air conditioning and I find that I am not an advocate of sweating. For these reasons, I find I am particularly prone to heat exhaustion and found myself drinking like a camel at work. In fact, I would return from retrieving water and my water cup would already be empty as my girlfriends were yet finding their seats. Due to the extraordinarily high levels of estrogen in my office and consequently a heightened awareness of all things baby-related, they swarmed my desk and in lowered tones asked The Question: "Cailin, are you pregnant?" Me? The one who has loudly and vehemently declared she doesn't want children until after summer of 2011, when she finishes graduate school, has published her first book and her parents return from Asia Minor? No. Certainly not.

The Question got me thinking though. With viewing my girlfriend's son, who is now four, I began to think: do parents look at couples without children the way married people sometimes look at single people? Am I a lesser being for not changing over my studio to a nursery? For not giving up my dream of education? For not pursuing the American Dream of a white picket fence, a dog named Spot and a baby on each hip?

When Joshua and I first met, he wanted to marry a woman whose entire life calling was to be a mother. He got me instead: a goal-oriented, Type A, driven, high-strung working woman. Time has changed that of course, but we grew to understand that we had very varied but similar goals: I wanted to become a curator which meant setting aside dreams of a family and a home life until I had nestled my way into the world niche for art historians which did not include diapers and daycare. Joshua wanted a family and a warm home environment, but he knew increasingly that he had neither the preparation of head knowledge to effectively rear a child and he wanted to be ready. So we agreed to wait.

But now several of our friends ask us incessantly: "when are you guys going to have children?" As if my life wasn't complete without offspring. Can life not continue without children? I feel as if my entire marriage isn't validated until we procreate and that I can't call Joshua and me a family unless we have that third wheel. It's not that I'm opposed. I am a woman of lists and I already have names. Joshua and I speak of them often and fondly and laugh at the things we think they will do and say. We dream of them and their antics and prepare how we will handle their "child-isms" that will come as they grow to test limits and see that we love them enough to enforce them.

But when does one decide, in all of this 'growing-up' and becoming the people we dreamed of when we were kids, that we are "ready"? Is it just that I'm scared that I push the deadlines so far out? Summer 2011. Who plans that far in advance? I told a friend counselor this once and she laughed and said, "perhaps you should come by my office for a chat". Am I so controlling that I need to have everything in order before I join the ranks of all those bold women of history who handled life with ease, even with a baby on the hip? Am I too scared that I'll fail? Am I overwhelmed with the permanency? I mean, I can decide to go to school, but then realize I'm in over my head and take off a semester, but with children it doesn't work that way. There is no changing of one's mind.

I think of so many people I know that had children prematurely in life. They were kids themselves and what a mess they made of things. I think it scares me to think that in my controlling mindset I should encounter something that I cannot foresee or be able to manipulate to work perfectly in my grand scheme of things. I suppose that is how faith enters the picture. I will not be able to handle it all on my own, nor will I have to. Whenever I should be greeted with the news of my children, I will rejoice and be glad for I know that at that time, the timing will have been right.

But for now it's just the two of us and that's just fine for me.

First Sighting

I saw it. It was on page 174 of my new Pottery Barn catalogue. I have to admit, I do consider August 2nd a little early in the season, but I can tell you for once, I didn't really mind. I am a ridiculous fan of autumn and to my complete delight, I did in fact find a pumpkin nestled in the new August catalogue. Good thing I am always looking for all things neutral-natural and all things autumnal or perhaps I wouldn't have seen the thing that reminds me that the beginning of my favorite season begins in 6 weeks and 4 days. Let autumn come!