Personal: Snowmageddon 2010!

Here's what my boyfriend and I saw from our house today:

Snow photos and a surprise!

For anyone else in the Northeast, I hope you are safe and sound and warm!

Permanence.

This is a piece I wrote back in 2002 as a response to a writing prompt. I am in the process of closing out the blog from which this came, and I am moving those pieces onto my other blogs.

Enjoy!

What is permanent? The Center is permanent. The Center is us, where we are in our world and our sense of it. It is very difficult to lose the Center, but it does happen. When it does, chaos reigns.

The Center tells us where home is, where to come back to when we travel. It is our connection to the Earth and the point around which we move, not unlike the Earth's own axis.

I have known my Center since I was very young, and in many ways it has made feel as if I live outside of any group I've ever been a part of.

During my experimentation--a rather mild and brief one many years ago--with drugs, it saved me from personal tragedy. It helped me to regulate my activities, and it also helped me to remember, when I was in that far off place, that I was safe. I avoided certain things because I got a sense that I would lose my Center. The Center is our sense of balance.

My Center is my connection with Deity. It serves as a conduit and a connection to my world when I venture into the world of the Sacred. It is my humanity.

The Center is the kernel of the soul. If you are one to believe in reincarnation, as I am, then you might say the Center never really changes, even as our human existence does.

I went through many, many thoughts about what is permanent. I came to chaos, but then I thought, "No..chaos is not permanent. ...Or maybe it is. It's too dynamic to know for sure." Love is permanent, but it, too, changes. The Center is fixed. The Center does not change. It may appear to grow or change as we grow, but it does not evolve, it does not move from place to place, and the it does not change our lives. Indeed, we change our lives to move closer to the Center.

(c) 2002 Jennifer L. Moore. Do not duplicate.

The Doctor is Not Always Right.

In fact, sometimes the doctor is a jerk. I have run into this recently in my own life, and--though I do have symptoms that need looked at and taken care of--I have decided that life is too short and that I do not have to tolerate this kind of behavior, even from a doctor.

Without getting too personal, I will say that I have been dealing with some chronic symptoms and problems for about eight years now. Some of my problems are in the process of being resolved, while others still bother me. I am still seeking answers on those, and it's not easy. It never is, when one is sort of left adrift, facing "maybe it's this, maybe it's that" most of the time.

My doctor has really screwed up, however. Twice now, I have gone to him, and he has brushed me off with what I feel is a very Victorian attitude about women's health. Twice, now he has made very sexist comments in response to symptoms I have mentioned to him, and--I don't care how sick someone is--I don't have to put up with that, and I won't.

Yesterday's comment was the straw that broke this camel's back, and I am in the process of finding out if I can switch doctors without losing a specialist I'm working with on an upcoming surgery. (I won't make a move until the HMO responds to that question. This is a critical time for me.)

As for the problem about which I was supposed to see him? I made the appointment on Friday. Over the weekend, I tried some things with my diet, and it took care of the problem. When the doctor's office called to confirm I was coming in yesterday, initially, I said I was. By the time I got to the lobby for my appointment, however, I was so angry that I just did not want to see him. For the cost of a bottle of kefir and a cancelled appointment, I feel I have saved myself some stress.

I am not writing this to state that I know more than a doctor or to state that anyone should ever forego getting medical care. What I am trying to say is that it is OK to disagree with our doctors, and it is OK--and even desirable--to seek out care elsewhere when either the doctor's behvior or our gut tells us that something is wrong. No one should stand for abuse from anyone, ever.

Quote of they Day-Filmmaker Darryl Roberts on Plastic Surgery

"In the interview I conducted with Eve Ensler ["The Vagina Monologues"], she spoke so eloquently about beauty and mutilation, beauty and violence. She says that when women allow themselves to be objectified, when men see them as objects, they are more likely to commit violence against them. In the case of some plastic surgery, the women are in a sense committing the violence against themselves--or at least the objectification to the point of mutilation. And their deaths are the ultimate sacrifice to the beauty myth."

This brought tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat. For as long as I can remember, I have been personally against plastic surgery EXCLUSIVELY for cosmetic purposes. I support reconstructive surgery after accidents, disease,etc., but I cannot get behind the idea of women mutilating themselves for the purpose of meeting society's extremely skewed beauty standards...and you know what else? Those standards will keep changing and ramping up. "The average woman" will never be good enough for "society."

Ladies, be yourselves. Rejoice in who you are. Love you the way you are, and you will find that others will do so, too.

(This quote was pulled from the Spring 2008 issue of "Bitch" magazine.)

Good Bye, Little One.

I haven't spent too much time talking about my cats or my work in animal rescue here. That was part of my vision for this blog, but things get in the way, and I get distracted. They are very much a part of my story, and they mean the world to me. We have 8 (until yesterday, 9.)

The truth of the matter is that I have not done any hands-on rescue in quite a long time, mainly due to health and time contraints. I constantly think about animal welfare and animal rights, I sign lots of petitions, write letters, and talk with other rescuers, but it has been a good, long while since I've instigated or participated in an action. (Don't worry! I don't throw pies at public figures or blow up laboratories! My actions are all directly about animals and usually involve removing an animal from one situation and placing it in another--or helping in such efforts.)

Today's post is about one very special cat, my beautiful Aria. Her name was almost "Monster," and her nickname was "Owies." Neither moniker was due to her demeanor--she was, in fact, a very sweet cat. Her name was almost "Monster," because she was originally supposed to go to my ex's roommate, and that's what he would have named her. Plus, when my ex and I found her, we gave her a can of "the stinky stuff," and as she was eating it, she'd purr and growl at the same time. (She was a kitten. It was really an amazing noise. LOL!)

When the ex and the roommate couldn't keep her, she came home with me, and when I had a chance to spend some quiet time with her, I asked her what she'd like to be called, and she told me, "Aria." The name fit, too, as she had a very sweet, musical meow. (Don't ask me how I managed to find quiet time with a kitten! LOL!) The name certainly fit her, down to her graceful whiskers.

We found her one night when we'd gone to the local Wendy's for some dinner. (I was not my current, green self back then--at least, not fully.) We heard something in the woods behind the restaurant and quickly realized that it was a kitten. As the stand of woods was flanked by 2 major roads and a Metrorail track, we both felt it would be a good idea to get the kitten to a safer place. He and I spent 2 hours tracking her through the woods. She would meow, I would meow back, and she'd respond. That's how we tracked her. She was a challenge to catch. She must have been so scared! I think we finally wore her out, because my ex was finally able to get close to her and just reach down and pick her up. We fed her his (other) roommate's cheesburger. Until I lost touch with this guy, he'd always joke: "She still owes me a cheesburger!"

After taking her back to the ex's place and being told that, as much as Housemate 1 wanted to keep her, he couldn't and then being talked out of leaving her at the shelter by a shelter worker, it was decided that she would come home with me. This was a last resort, as I already had 3 cats at home, but as we all know, it worked out beautifully in the end.

Aria and I went through a lot together (right along with my other 7 cats) and had many happy times. These guys went through 3 moves (in a few cases, 4 moves or more) with me, saw me end one relationship in a very sad way and start a new one (my current one,) saw me through job losses, new jobs, health problems, and all sorts of other things, but Aria just kept smiling and singing her song.

Sadly, back in August, she was diagnosed with cancer. It was not an aggressive cancer, but she did undergo chemotherapy. For the first 5 weeks or so, she did really well. Her last bit of bloodwork came back looking good. She was not cancer-free, but it appeared to be receding. Then suddenly, last Thursday, she stopped eating. On Friday, we took her to the emergency vet clinic and had her admitted. They gave her fluids and an appetite stimulant. They did another ultrasound to check on her cancer, and everything looked OK. There were some very enlarged lymph nodes, but there were less of them.

As of Saturday, she was eating and alert and great, but Sunday evening, she stopped eating again. We noticed, too, that she was really out of it. I gave her the appetite stimulant again on Monday morning, but it did not help this time. She still would not eat. She was drinking water, but she refused all food, she did not want attention (much,) and she was very lethargic. After much discussion with my boyfriend and some other supporters, I decided to let her go. In fact, Sunday night I asked her to let me know, and somehwere in the wee hours of Monday morning, I got my sign. My heart hurts, but I know I did the right thing.

We took her last night, and her passing was quick. She was in a very quiet room, and we both held onto her the whole time. Her ashes will be spread over an apple orchard here in Maryland. She is at peace, which--although I am very sad--puts me at peace.

You will be sorely missed, my lovely "Owies!"

My boyfriend has posted some amazing photos and a lovely tribute of his own here. I don't have access to my photos, so enjoy these images.

Thank you for reading.

Winter Gardening.

I'm very sorry that I do not have pictures to share this time. The garden is looking really nice, even now that we are deep into Autumn. Everything is in the ground, except for the two boxes we have. Formerly potato boxes, they now hold garlic and yet more radishes.

The tomato yield was huge, but we've managed to work our way through them all with no waste. The potato yield was impressive, but not nearly as large as it could have been. (The house gardener, my boyfriend, did not know about mounding.) From 2 potatoes (6 pieces,) we got 10 spuds, and some of them were ginormous! Those fed us for about two weeks. If we do everything properly next year, I expect a bumper crop!

The mint and peppers did not like coming inside at all, and I think we are losing the peppers. This is not a problem, since we have more pepper seeds (mixed varieties) than we can possibly ever use. The mint came inside with a case of aphids, so they are back outside for now, having been treated. The tomato plants also picked up aphids, so--since the season is over--the plants have come down and gone onto our mulch pile. The sage, parsley and thyme are hanging in there, but something is eating the sage, so as it gets colder, I want to cut it and bring it in to dry. We are leaving it for now. The greens are still doing fine, so we will let those keep going, too.

It's been an unusually mild Autumn and an odd one. We've had frosts followed by outright hot days. I'm sure the plants are confused, but we're all too happy to take advantage of the bounty!

I have to admit that I'm really glad that most things are in the ground. The yard looks much nicer now. If the wooden potato box does not fall apart, I'm all too happy to keep using it. The fiberglass one, of course, will probably last forever. Hey--if it means having home-grown spuds, I'm all for it!

I will try to post some pictures in the next week or so, but I can't promise anything. We are getting ready to travel, and I have some other personal and household issues that I need to deal with right now.

Happy fall!

Pawpaw

Our wild edibles-knowledgable friend took my boyfriend out this past weekend to collect pawpaw, a relative of various tropical fruits, which is native to the Eastern US. Unfortunately, I was unable to join them, because I was selling at a local arts and crafts festival. (Information coming to my other blog soon about that!) My friend has been trying to get me and some other folks to go with him for a few years to harvest them, but my schedule has yet to align properly. I'm glad my boyfriend could go this weekend.

According to my friend, there is only about a week window--at this time of year--in which they can be collected. Once they ripen, they go bad quickly, so you have to harvest them just at the right time.

I finally got to try one on Saturday evening, and for a small fruit, they are very satisfying. They taste kind of like banana and mango, but the flavor is much more subtle. They have kind of a custardy texture, and there are seeds all through them. We are collecting the seeds, and if we can't plant a couple on our property, I am probably going to make them into beads for my jewelry.

It is very exciting to find wild foods like this that are actually native. I hope to go on these harvests in the future. People do cultivate them here and there, but I like the idea of foraging, as my readers know.

I hope to maybe get a few photos of our bounty and post them.