The powers of three-year-olds

I went today to visit my friend Sara and her three kids (and her husband, too). They are a lovely family and are doing really well. We try to make sure to see each other at least once a month since we lived so far from each other for so many years, and here we both are, full circle, both close to where we started.

Her daughter is full of life and has been verbal from before she could talk. Today, Sara told me a story that happened last Tuesday. Her daughter was having a not-so-good morning and Sara was reprimanding her for whatever transgression. Caroline, in a fit of anger, said to Sara "Your day is cancelled!" HOW AWESOME!

Imagine if we could just cancel someone else's day? Just take it away from them as punishment? We'd never need any other power, because that one would just be the end-all-and-be-all! And, on a twist, I have to say I'd love the ability to cancel my own day once and a while too. Just have a break, but nobody's expecting me anywhere, because my day doesn't exist. It's just been cancelled.

Apparently about a year ago, when Caroline was still only 2 and a half, she once said to Sara, "Get out of my mood!" Which is also not only clever, but totally sums up what we grown-ups need to do for each other sometimes.

Children are wise. Why do we unlearn that?

36

I am 36. I am still in my mid-thirties. (Yes. I am. No. 36 is not late-thirties. No, I'm not listening. It's not.)

Fun facts about the number 36 are available easily, as is all other knowledge of the world, on Wikipedia, of course. I harvested these three from all the others.

First:

36 is the number of degrees in the angle of all 5 tips in a perfect star.

Ah, perfect things. A perfect star. Drawn with a protractor. From 1982. When I was 9.

Second:

36 is the sum of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8.

Well, that's just cool. And nice and round. And happily mathematical.

Third:

The sum of 1+2+3+...+36 is 666.

Great. The sign of the devil. Hmmm...

Darlin' Do Not Fear

Through Pandora, I discovered Brett Dennen. I love him. His songs are simple and sweet. This one was just playing, and I really heard it for the first time. I do that, you know, don't really listen to a song, even one I've heard again and again. Anyway, this one is apropos this week.

These are excerpts. The song is Darlin Do Not Fear What You Don't Really Know.
Listen here, but don't watch, because the hand held camera will make you sick. :)

From its place on the mantle my heart and was taken down
scattered in a thousand little pieces on the ground
And out below the street lamp like an orphan with a halo
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

'cause it won't last - the worries will pass
All your troubles they don't stand a chance
And sometimes it takes more than a lifetime to know
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

If you have a broken heart or a battered soul
Find something to hold on to or to let go
to help you through the hard nights like a flask filled with hope
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know

I will

Bad things sometimes are done to good people. The key is, though: the bad thing was created by someone else. So the good person (me, in this case) doesn't own it. It isn't mine. I am affected by it, but it's not mine. So moving on from it is easier.

I had a relationship this year with someone I came to love. We started out dating, I broke it off because it wasn't working, I went back looking for friendship, I discovered a lie, I left for "good", I sought the friendship again, I thought the friendship had potential to be a relationship again, and I found out the entire thing had been a lie, from the start.

It's been quite the journey. And difficult. There're details that are mind-blowing; details that are disgusting; details that are shocking; details that are just plain sad. Sufficed to say, though, that the details aren't really important any more. I've had my fill of details.

I am okay. Good, even. It has been 11 days since I learned that I'd been duped, tricked into thinking something existed that didn't. It's been 11 days since I learned that some people are ill. I knew this, of course, but I'd not had a relationship with anyone who has a real disorder before. It's powerful stuff.

It is the big picture that is important now. This is the big picture as I understand it today:

- I am a loving, trusting, pure-of-heart person. (Not to say I'm naive, because I'm not; purity is something different. I use that word to mean that I always have good intentions, my interactions with others are always organic, my emotions are always available to myself and others, and I do not possess the ability to hurt another person on purpose, nor to I have the ability to understand how others can do so.)

- I have a deep desire to be in a partnership with a man, but that hasn't presented itself to me yet in a real way. I need to be increasingly careful to not see potential where it isn't because of this desire.

- I trusted someone who shouldn't have been trusted. I had no way of knowing that he didn't deserve my trust. So none of this is my fault.

- I am not willing to give up who I am at my core, so I will trust again. Some might see this as wanton at best or stupid at worst. I am not really interested in a tempered version of myself and so, I will trust.

- Karma is very powerful. Whenever I've said in the past that the Universe is watching over me and I listen to its messages, I really mean Karma. That my behavior and intentions are so honest and open that Karma helps me get what I need. I believe this is why things come easier to me, why I often find myself in the right place at the right time, and why my life is simple, clean, and beautiful. Karma will work out what needs to be worked out in this case without my intervention.

- I have truly wonderful friends and family. Ones who listen to me, love me, understand me, and are protective of me. They are willing to hug me, cry with me and hold my hand when I need it. They are patiently waiting for me to laugh again.

- I have a honed ability to process information, evaluate my emotions, gather information from inside myself, and move forward in ways that are useful and healthy. I have exercised this ability numerous times in my life, and it has served me especially well this time around.

I realize this post is cryptic. I realize, dear reader, that you aren't getting the whole story. But my intention in this post is to outline the future, not get bogged down in the past.

So, as I move through another January and into a new year, I will walk tall, with my given confidence and belief in myself. I will slowly stop wondering why. I will stop glancing back and instead I will look forward. I will continue to do yoga two or three times a week because it is as good as therapy. I will start to want to eat again. I will laugh, loudly and obnoxiously once again.

I will.

Dogsledding!

Okay, the dogsledding.

Back in, oh, I don't know, September, I began poking around looking for a winter trip. It was probably right when I got back from Canada, as I tend to get itchy for the next trip right after I've come home from one. I have no idea how I landed on dogsledding, except that I was looking for winter trips and women's trips. There was a 5-day 5-star extravaganza in Minnesota. It was snowshoeing, dogsledding, cross country skiing, lodge-with-a-jacuzzi all rolled into one. And required a flight into Deluth and then a rental car. It would've cost upwards of $3000. I considered it for a half a second.

Then it dawned on me that there is probably dogsledding in Maine. And viola! there it was Mahoosuc Guide Service. I contacted Polly, asked a few questions, and had quickly booked the full-moon trip for an overnight in January.

I arrived after a leisurely drive up through NH and Maine that took most of Friday. I checked into the lodge they offer on their property, which is gorgeous. Polly and Kevin (the couple who own and run the business) built it themselves. It has a large common room with kitchen and living room, and two bunk rooms each with a bathroom. It was a like a really nice dorm. I had a nap and then went over to the main house for the meeting. We got all the gear we needed (boots, parkas, mucklucks, and bits and pieces like mittens, etc.) We met as a group.

The players:

Erol and Laurie from Northern VA (last year they went ice climbing!)
Paul and his 12 year old Sevi and 12 year old friend Dario
Mike and his 12 year old Margot and 12 year old friend Sarah
Me

The staff:

Polly, owner
Bonnie, ski guide (older retired woman)
Dan, college kid working with Polly over break
Eliot, 12 year old local kid helping with the puppies

We set off Saturday morning after meeting the dogs, leading them to the dog transport truck, which looks like this:



We drove for a while and dropped off those in the group who would sled in. The skiing group then carried on. After getting ourselves sorted out, we put on cross country skis, donned our packs on our backs, and set out for the 5 mile journey to camp. We were Bonnie the ski guide, Paul (one of the dads) who pulled a toboggan the whole way, Eliot the local kid, and three puppies in dog sledding training who just ran free with us. It took us 3.5 hours to get there, and I fell about 8 times. I've never been on cross country skis, let alone with a huge pack on my back in very deep snow. It wasn't hard, per se, but it was counter-intuitive to an alpine skier and it was sunny and warm (20 degrees!) and took energy to get up. At one point, I asked Bonnie, who was behind me, to go ahead because it was going to stress me out to have her watch me get up! She obliged.

We arrived at camp around 3 and were greeted by the sledders, along with a warm cook tent and tea. The sunset was lovely and the full moon rise was amazing as we collected firewood for a campfire that was to take place later on the lake! I've never burned a fire on ice before. We had a dinner of mac and cheese (the real thing with chunks of cheddar), sausages, and veggies. We walked around camp in mucklucks, which are essentially canvas slippers. You put them on over your socks and down or felt booties and keep dry and warm. At one point, one of the 12-year-old girls came running out of camp and yelled "I'm walking on a lake in my slippers on the snow!" in a singsongy voice. It was exactly what we were all thinking!

We went to bed about 9. It was 0 degrees at 6, so I have no idea how cold it got. I had to sleep with my contact case in my bed with me so they wouldn't freeze, so I popped it in my bra to keep them warm! We were in two sleeping bags, sleeping on a pine bough floor over packed snow. There was a wood burning stove in the tent, which went out mid-sleep. But I was never cold. Nice and toasty in my long underwear and layers. I had to get up to pee in the middle of the night and was met with heavily falling snow outside! It was beautiful, and warmer.

The next morning, after pancakes and bacon and coffee and tea, the skier team headed out while we readied the camp for our departure. We cleaned up, stacked wood, put down new pine bough floors all for the next group (who would arrive on Tuesday). We got a dogsledding lesson, and headed out. I drove my own dog team the whole way out! I had a kid for a while, in an attempt to even out the weight, but then he went back to another sled. We travelled 7 miles across the lake to get back. The dogs were awesome, it was silent and beautiful, and the sun came back out for our trip. I loved every minute.

When we arrived back, we put the dogs back in their places, ate lunch and hung out waiting for the skiers. They took a long time, so we finally headed down the road to find them. Right as we saw them coming, there, in the middle of the road was a moose! I've never seen one in the wild and she was a gorgeous cow. She headed up into the woods pretty quickly. It was a great ending to a great weekend.

My batteries all froze, so I don't have any photos of my own. I got a few from one of the dads, and I'm hoping more will make their way to me, but I figured that the universe was telling me I didn't need photos of this trip.

Here's a few more of theirs:

Breathe in my nose - out my mouth

I went dog sledding and it was amazing, but I haven't the energy to write about it.

Remember this post?

Well, maybe I should listen to myself better. And always trust myself more than I trust other people. And stop worrying about being alone. And look for people who are as pure and good as I am. But I didn't. And I'm paying the price.

So I'm in reflection, and that can't include writing right now.

I'm hoping in another few weeks, I'll be okay.

There is nothing to say

I haven't posted since December 18, I just realized. And I have nothing to say. Nothing is moving me. I am feeling settled and boring and pretty unmotivated for anything.

But, I'm going dog sledding in Maine this weekend, so perhaps after that, I'll have something to write about.

So, wait.

My Life Is Complete

CBS streams "The Amazing Race" online!

When Allowed Amongst the Boys

It's been a long time since I spent time amongst a group of boys. I say "boys" because this particular group has known each other a good while and have a long history and when touring down memory lane, boys is the best term for them. Today, I was treated to such a day, and it was as fun as I remember it being in high school and college. How did I lose this part of my life?

At one point, one of them said "It doesn't get better than this. We could tell these same stories tomorrow and they'd be just as good." That's at the heart of it. Friends gathered, drinking beer or Jack and ginger and just being together. I'm pretty sure I didn't hold my own, or represent women very well, but I drank a bunch of beers and did my best to listen well and ask questions where I thought they were relevant.

I'm not sure we women know what to do when let into the little club for an hour or an afternoon. Especially when the history isn't shared. If I dropped right this second back into a room with my three boys from high school, I think I'd feel at home because we share that history. Even though they are men who I don't know anymore and I am a woman who is a version of the girl they used to know, we could still fill an afternoon with stories and laughter. We were all there, at any of the settings of any of the stories. This time, not the case for me. But men, and these men are no exception, like to tell stories about themselves, even more so to a willing, listening, questioning audience.

After the fact, in the car, being driven home by the one who I am friends with (the other two are his, not mine), I gave my impressions of the other two. I'd met them both before, but not seen them in a while. I told the truth. That I like both of them and that I think they are good for him. And that I think they are big huge softies at heart who talk a good game. He laughed. A big, deep, open-mouthed belly laugh. He can laugh all he wants, but I'm not buying it. He wouldn't be friends with them if they weren't. It's why they call each other when they need something, are there when the chips are down, and give advice when it's sorely needed. It's same as what we women do for each other, just with a different cadence and at a higher (or lower, depending) decibel level.

I absolutely love the day after a holiday. Black Friday, New Year's Day, Boxing Day. Sleep in, eat breakfast out, and sit around just being with friends who matter. Like he said, "There's nothing better..."

Obama is my President

I've been wondering how to write a post about the post-election time in which we are now residing. I've been a bit overwhelmed and unable to properly organize my thoughts into anything, really, so I've put off writing. But it's time.

President-elect Barack Obama has a new website, located at www.change.gov to follow the transition for the next 70 days. (There's exactly 70 days to go from today. 70 more days of Bush. 70 more days until we can begin the healing process.) The site looks good, and true to Obama style, there's a place to submit stories about folks' election and campaign stories. It feels nice. Like if I met Obama tomorrow, I could sit down, have a cup of coffee with him, and say thank you. And it'd feel normal. Like I know him. He doesn't feel far off and away from me like others do. (For the record, I felt something like this about Bill Clinton in 1992, but that was more celebrity; if he'd been across the table from me, I would've been tongue-tied and a blithering idiot - this difference could be due to my age and maturity level, or it could be because I received email from "Obama" regularly. You decide.)

In further website news, I visited www.whitehouse.gov today for the first time. I'm going to assume this site didn't exist when Clinton was president (or it was at the end and I wasn't paying attention) and I've no call to go looking for anything about Bush that I don't already know. But I wanted to know what to expect after Obama takes office. In the top right hand corner, there is a link to the VP, the First Lady and one called Mrs. Cheney. So of course, not even recalling Mrs. Cheney's first name, I click on it. I am met with this photo of Dick's two dogs dressed up for Halloween - wait for it - last year!



Clearly, nobody cares what Lynne Cheney is doing with her days. Ha! Anyway, this was a giant digression. So allow me to continue.

I've been very very pleased that Barack won. I'd not been emotional about it yet. Until this morning. I was reading the special commemorative issue of Time magazine on the T this morning on the way to work and I kept tearing up. There were quotes from people and stories from the campaign trail. All of a sudden, I was aware of what's happened. Of the decision that we have made together - the people of the United States - to put our faith in someone who has promised to do things differently. People really challenged themselves on lots of levels to think differently, to cross party lines, to change their minds from where they began and vote for change.

For a minute and a half today, I considered trying to get to DC for Inauguration. I still could go. I could crash with someone from the University of Maryland and Metro into the city and just walk around and be in the same place that day. I could say I was in DC when the first President of the United States who wasn't White was sworn in. I might try to find someone to make the trip with me.

And here we go, into the 70 day countdown to Inauguration and then the first 100 days, those first three months where we, the media, the bloggers, the people, everyone, don't allow anyone to settle into anything without the upmost scrutiny. He appears ready for that. Which is good, because it's going to be tough. People, even those who voted for him, are going to be looking for him to fail. Is it human nature that makes us expect the impossible from those with power?

I know there are people who aren't happy he won. Some of those people are right in my family. I don't really get them, since I couldn't imagine McCain as my President. But I respect their opinion. I just hope they give him a second to breathe.

I believe we will slowly be welcomed back to the world stage as welcome participants rather than the school-yard bully that everyone has to put up with because we happen to be bigger than they are. I believe we will make better decisions about war and peace. I believe we will begin to help the Earth more. I believe we will slowly climb out of the economic tumble and fall we've been in for a few years now. I believe things will change.

I don't believe we'll wind up socialist, or even a social democracy, although that's what I long for. I wish we were more like France or Sweden. I wish we cared for each other; that health care was available to all; that education was a given. I wish that people didn't have to worry about paying the bills because everyone had a job and enough. But we're not headed there, not even with Obama, as some people think.

I think money will be put back towards Head Start, and the Peace Corps, and national service programs. I think money will be back for education in the arts and music and gym -- things that make students able to think and create and innovate in more than one way. I think once we stop spending all our money fighting a war that never should've been, we might be able to fix the things at home falling apart.

I have a lot of hope and a lot of faith and a lot of patience. And I believe this man I've put it all into, with a quick blackening-in of a little circle on a piece of paper in a booth in a middle-school gym on election day, will rise to it.

People are Crazy

We know that people are crazy already. Sometimes, though, the craziness is really amazing to me.

Story #1:
A couple weeks ago, I was doing laundry in the basement of my house. We share the free washer and dryer with the upstairs apartment and it says in our lease that we are equally responsible for any repairs on the machines because the landlord didn't buy them and they don't maintain them.

When I got downstairs, the washer was done and the dryer was done. (Our dryer never turns off, so it was running running on "cool" down and the clothes inside were dry.) Normally, I would just move the clothes from one place to the next and then put my own in, never knowing who owns the laundry let alone what apartment they live in. But, here in my new house, with only one other apartment, I decided I'd go up and ask. I knocked once. Waited. Knocked again. Waited. Nothing. So I went back down and did what everybody does. Moved the dry clothes to the hamper sitting there, and the wet clothes to the dryer (without turning it on, of course).

For the record, this is my understanding of shared laundry facility protocol. I've never lived anywhere where this wasn't the case. I've even had it happen to me at laundromats when I've been gone too long doing errands.

When I went back down to move to the dryer, the hamper was gone and the dryer was back on "cool" and that load was dry. So I took them out, placed them on the wiped down top of the dryer and put my load in. Shortly after that, I heard someone on the stairs and a lot of door-slamming. Next thing I know - knock on the door.

The man who has lived upstairs the longest was at the door (I've heard he's been there 6 years). He wanted to discuss what had happened with the laundry. I asked what he meant. Long story short, he was insulted I moved his laundry, especially considering that he owns the machines. What? An annoying conversation followed, during which I finally discerned that long ago, everyone in the house had pooled together to buy the machines, and since he was the only one of those original purchasers left, he thought he owned the machines. I confirmed that we should still use the machines, noted that my lease held me responsible for half their repair and signed in blood that I would never again touch his laundry. He finally left.

On inspection, my roommate and I confirmed that we are paying for the electricity to run the washing machine (they have the dryer) and all the lighting in the basement. I'm just waiting for another laundry-related altercation, so I can tell him that we need $1 every time he runs the washer. Grin.

Story #2:
Friday night, I was riding the bus home from the soup kitchen where I volunteer. It was a longish trip and I was tired. There was a very cute family sitting just in front of me with a mom, dad, and two little boys. The smallest boy, as we got closer to my stop, began pushing the stop button for each stop.

He did it as we approached my stop, so I didn't hit the button too. The driver had been stopping at each stop, so I got up and stood next to the door as we got closer to my street. She didn't stop. She drove past. So I yelled out "Stop the bus please!" as I was way way at the back of the bus. She slammed on the brakes and stopped while yelling at me "Why didn't you push the button?" We were now stopped, but she wouldn't open the door for me. I yelled, "The button had been pushed already!" and she yelled something I didn't catch, with her arm waving in the air as she told me off. Still no open door. Finally I yelled, "I don't need to fight, I just needed the bus to stop! Open the door, please!" She did. And I was allowed to disembark the bus.

Jeez.

Are people's lives really that horrible that they need these tiny things to feel better? Perhaps. The economy is in the toilet, people are worried, and I guess civility is the first thing to go. If we just treated each other more kindly, though, I think things might feel better.

There Ain't No Hulu-ing Anywhere Else

I do not have television in my new apartment. My new roommate and I decided we didn't need it. I am a crazy Netflixer, so movies keep me sated most of the time. I am also able to visit abc.com and watch Grey's Anatomy and Lost (when it begins again in January), so my life is pretty much complete.

Occasionally, I want a sitcom fix. So I'll visit hulu.com and watch entire episodes of The Office or Family Guy. I haven't really investigated all hulu has to offer, actually, since these two usually do me just fine. I did recently watch a bunch of 30 Rock episodes on a disk my roommate has, and that's on Hulu, too, so perhaps I'll add it to my repertoire.

One night in Canada, I was feeling like a little something. I thought to myself, "Hmmm...maybe Christy and I should watch a movie on Netflix on Instant Download." I logged into Netflix and clicked "Watch Now" on one of the films in my queue. No can do. I don't remember the exact wording, but it was something like, "Due to licensing, instant viewing is only available to users within the United States." Wow.

I tried to log onto abc.com to see what would happen. The full episode streaming link opened and I was met with a message similar to Netflix without the licensing message: ABC episode streaming is only available to users within the United States.

Wow. Off to hulu I went. (I couldn't believe it, apparently.) Same deal. WE KNOW YOU ARE IN CANADA. STOP TRYING TO WATCH OUR SHOWS ILLEGALLY. (Okay, not exactly, but you get the idea.)

Obviously, the computer knew where I am since I was accessing the internet via the wireless registered to a Canadian address. But it still felt a little big-brother-y.

I get the Netflix and Hulu deal, since they pay some kind of fee to be able to show those films and episodes to subscribers and viewers online. But ABC is just trying to make sure that other countries pay boatloads of money to show Grey's Anatomy on CanadaTV (which they do and they do -- we didn't miss the season premiere).

So there, other countries. You must wait to see American television when we are good and ready to release it to you. Don't think you can go logging onto the internet and see our stuff. Not even you, Canada.

To the left, to the left...

We crossed the border in a little town called Calais (which, for those who are wondering, is pronounced by the Mainers as Cal-us; not the French Cal-ay).

The Canadian side was a long road through a little town and then a turn to get to the border crossing and Maine. Quite literally, turn here for the USA. Grin.

Before and After

Christy and I waited till the sun was low tonight to go down to the edge of the field to take some shots of our hard work.

BEFORE:

















AFTER:


















We have no idea how many we picked total, but considering we thought we'd picked 150-200 butternut squash the other day and today after loading them all into the truck and counting, we discovered it was 272 of those, we think maybe we picked more than 1500 pumpkins. No clue!

Here's all the piles in the field. There are about 30 piles.



Today's work: vacuum-packing and labeling 400 pounds and half-pounds of tofu, loading up the butternut from the fields into boxes and putting them in the barn, and picking 32 dozen corn. Tomorrow's work (our last day): shucking 25 dozen corn and bagging them for the market, bagging apples for the market, boxing 2 boxes of pumpkins for the market, picking up 13 boxes each containing 12 dozen eggs for the market at the chicken-farm place, putting some eggs into 8s and 6s for the market, and whatever other chores happen pre-market that we don't even know about yet.

We're headed out very early Saturday morning and will make our way north and west to New Brunswick before turning south along the shore, stopping in St. John for lunch and then crossing the border to Maine and travelling the small Route 1 to Bar Harbor. We stay there for the night with a friend of Christy's dad (who grew up in Bar Harbor). Sunday we'll hit Boston by 3 or 4 in the afternoon. I'm sad to see the farm-trip end, but happy to be going home to my own bed again. The perfect way to feel at the end of a vacation!

Tour de Fishing Village

Lunenburg, a UNESCO site*
*note, I didn't take this photo, but lifted it off their site





We were up at 7 and in the garden by 8 this morning picking pumpkins. By 10 we'd picked about 450 and after showering were off on a fishing village trip. We drove down to the South Shore and went through LaHave and stopped at the bakery there for a drink and a scone. Then we headed across the river on the cable ferry on the car (so cool). Photo below.

















Then we went to Lunenburg for lunch and poking around in the shops and then to Mahone Bay, famous for it's three churches all in a row on the waterfront. Photo below. (Now, this doesn't seem all that unusual to us, considering Nova Scotia has more churches than anywhere we've ever been before.)
















In all, it was about a 7 hour trip and it was fun. Tomorrow our British co-volunteer leaves, George is off from his regular job to work a 14 hour day to make tofu, Christy is going to pick pumpkins in the morning, and I'm driving to Halifax at 8 to get a bearing for the trailer in order for them to be able to use it. Then, afternoon of painting the pumpkin cart, then helping clean up from the 12 batches of tofu. Wednesdays are busy 'round here.

A Sidetrip to Halifax

Halifax is a cool little city and a major port. I really dig cities with water all around and through and in between, so I knew I'd like this one.

Things we did in Halifax:

1. Shopped at the Farmer's Market, the oldest in North America. I bought local honey, tea from a local tea maker, and an awesome ring (to continue my tradition of a piece of locally-made jewelry wherever I travel).



2. Visited our farm-family hosts at their farmer's market booth. It was huge and really great!







3. Drove to Peggy's Cove, about 40 minutes south of Halifax. It's a tiny little town, population 60. It's the only post office run from a lighthouse in North America. And, they stamped our passports for us! (We didn't get stamped into Canada when we crossed the border.)



4. Ate fish sandwiches in Peggy's Cove and then walked around the little town and visited the two shops.

5. Stopped at the Swiss Air 111 Crash memorial just outside Peggy's Cove.

6. Checked into the very nice hostel.



7. Drank beers at The Maxwell Plum. Had Pump House, brewed in Moncton, N.B.; McAuslan from Quebec; and Propeller, from Halifax.

8. Ate a delicious dinner of mussels and seafood stew at The Economy Shoe Shop.





9. Drank more McAuslan Apricot (so good!) at The Henry House.



10. Dealt with the lunatic who came into the hostel dorm at 12:30 a.m. and turned on all the lights and then left.

11. Visited the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic. Became enlightened to the fact that the Titanic sunk off the coast of Nova Scotia and Haligonians went out to find and pick up all the dead bodies they could. (Who knew?) Saw an amazing Halifax Explosion exhibit to round out my full obsessive-education of this disaster. Also learned all about Sable Island and the thousands of shipwrecks around this 24 mile long sandbar off of Nova Scotia. Very cool.

12. Walked all along the water boardwalk past George's Island (was used as a prison while they were deporting all the Acadians in 1755).

13. Shopped and ate a quick snack at the Hydrostone Market way up on Young Street. It was reconstructed after the Explosion because even that far up from the harbor was destroyed.

14. Had a lovely drive to and from Halifax.

Me in the Buttercup Squash Field

and the result:

Tofu Packing 101

When we got downstairs today around 9 (we've been sleeping in a bit), we found a note saying that two of us were meant to pick veggies and the third could be used in the tofu packing process. I got to go to tofu-land.

I joined Heather (the daughter of the family we are staying with) after washing my arms up to my elbows and getting a clean apron, hairnet, and sanitizing myself. The steps were as follows:

Heather takes the pre-cut tofu blocks from their freezing cold water buckets and puts each one-pound or half-pound piece in a bag.



Then, I would take the bag and put them 4-up in the vacuum sealer machine.



Then I'd hold down the top till it sealed shut. The motor would start and it would take about a minute to seal up the 4 bags.



The top would pop open and I'd take out the four bags and put them on a towel in front of the scale with another towel placed on top to start the drying-off-each-bag process while I set 4 more bags in the vacuum machine and started them going. After a quick dry-off, each packet had to be checked for weight. Anything between 450 and 550 grams is a pound, and anything between 250 and 350 is okay as a half-pound. Over that, and they went in a separate container. Under that, I had to write the actual weight on the label and put them in a separate container too.



Once weighed, they each get a pre-printed, very nice label with the name of the company, the type of tofu, the ingredients and the "best if used by" date on them. We packaged plain, herb, thai, California herb, and extra firm all in half-pounds and pounds. Each gets a nutritional information sticker on the back, too.



Together, Heather and I packaged 300 pound packs and 70 half-pound packs. They will fill orders at stores and be sold at the Halifax Farmer's Market on Saturday in Halifax, which is the oldest farmer's market in North America. We are going to go when we are there Saturday (we're going for the weekend) and I can't wait. I love Farmer's Markets, especially big, huge, proper ones!

They also made today and will make tomorrow to sell: muffins of 6 different varieties some with wheat flour and some with spelt flour all with tofu; garlic tofu spread; other flavor tofu spreads; tofu kabobs; okaranola (granola using the by-product meat of the soy bean); okaranola bars; tofu brownies; tofu date bars; and tofu spring rolls. They often sell out of all of this between 7a and 1p. They also sell veggies. This week will be yellow and green beans that Christy and Paul picked today, pattipan squash, zucchini, maybe some tomatoes, potatoes, and more. I'm going to buy a bunch of this stuff to bring home with me. We had smoked tofu as one of the ingredients in the make-your-own-sushi dinner we had tonight and it was so good!

All this happens with a farmer who works a full-time job as an electrician in town and a woman who has serious back problems related to a ten-year old injury and their daughter. It's pretty awesome.

We also went to the Grand Pre historical site today. This town is on the short list to be a UNESCO site and is the exact place where the Acadians were driven out by the British in 1755 and sent back to France and to the U.S. after having lived here for 100 years. Longfellow wrote a poem about it in the 1800s which brought it to the forefront. It was pretty awful.

We took a quick drive down to the waterfront too, to see the cross that marks the exact spot where the people were forced into boats to be taken the ships in the Bay to be brought to wherever they would be deported to. They spent months on the ships in the holds and many died of disease, drowning and other fates. There was a declaration in the museum from England acknowledging this had happened, but also clearly stating they weren't going to take responsibility. Okay. The cross was quite beautiful.

The Top 5 Things I Didn't Know About Pumpkins

5. There are a shit-ton of different kinds.

4. They require three cuts to sever them from their vines.

3. They turn orange in the shade/dark/deep in the weeds rather than in the sun.

2. There are a million of them in one little field.

1. Three people can pick about 800 pumpkins in 3 hours.

Am sore as hell. Am out of shape. Am a little embarrassed, but am getting over it. Am a city person, not a country person. Love organic veggies, to be delivered to me in a box rather than picking them from a field. Am very glad to be helping Anna and George with their harvest, though. Will power through.

The farm smells of compost and freshly cut hay. There is a dog, Roxy, who just had major surgery and walks like she's older than her 8 years. There are 5 cats, one of whom is lying next to me as I type. There are a bunch o' chickens and a couple of strutty roosters who keep their cock-a-doodles to a minimum, which is nice. They've been attacked by a raccoon or two recently, but then a baby monitor was put in the hen house so they know if something's going down. (Great idea, that.)

The house is the one where George grew up and his dad grew up here. His grandparents bought this house after the Halifax Explosion (a piece of the ship landed in their yard and scared the crap out of them, so they moved away -- George still has the piece of ship -- the kids used to take it to school for show and tell!) It is full of stuff and feels very homey. Our room has widewale hardwood floors that somehow don't creak when you walk on them. There are 4 bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. All the windows are new.

From the window of our bedroom you can see the Bay of Fundy. There are farms across the street, up the hill, down the hill, and around the bend. The milk truck pulled into the farm across the street today and loaded up, I presume. Then he honked at us on his way back by our farm as we were toiling in the lower patch, Christy tramping around in the weeds, discovering pumpkins left and right, hiding in the brush. My Obama '08 t-shirt has been christened with the red mud of Nova Scotia.

We are headed to a garden shop place which apparently sells jams and jellies and chutneys and oils of a million varieties. Anna, George and Heather have been in making 11 batches of tofu since 4 a.m. and aren't quite done yet at almost 3 p.m. People work hard. Harder than I.

They could probably pick pumpkins without crippling themselves, too.

A Haiku for You

Pumpkins in Grand Pre
Three hundred picked in one day
My back is broken