The boy gave the green light for me to enroll in John Jeavons’ workshop in October. So, the application requires a short bio, and here is what sprung forth:

Lynne Marie Parson grew up on a farm, and never dreamed that she would ever want to garden or farm or do anything but spend days writing from an airplane seat. Now, she’s constantly scheming how to get more veggies and fruit bushes into her near 2,000 square-feet outside area. She’s just read about the Biointensive method, employed it on one tomato bed this past year, and hopes to bring this workshop’s knowledge to her family farm in Southern Illinois. With every season, she gets the feeling that she wants to help others start and maintain organic gardens and farms.

I have a million things to say at the moment, but I think that paragraph summarizes all the flittering thoughts in my head now.

This evening, I tried to convince my mom and my husband, and I guess they both think I’m loony.

Stick to marketing. Stick to publishing. Stick to what you’ve done for the past 15 years.

I keep saying that I’m not unsticking myself. I just don’t see marketing and publishing as being my main squeeze; they’re always there, though.

My heart says that I need to grow things...stories, food, beauty. Just propagate plants and paragraphs.

that Powell’s is my desire for heaven’s landscape. I can browse and read and sip coffee all hours of my eternity. Maybe just need a soundtrack in the air and an occasional little concert in the cafe.

I have not experienced much of this place, but I think I’m becoming a part of it, without any scheming. It’s how I felt after the first couple trips to Richmond, when I was in Chicago for my spinal-reconstruction surgery. This knowledge that I’ll return and maybe not inhabit for a forever, but I will be something to this place and this place will mean something to me.

Maybe I’m over-reaching.

Right now, I’m waiting for many things. I just picked up eight books that I *must* have and I wonder how I will carry them all in my backpack. I’m working and learning and meeting...and lying to myself and telling the truth to everyone else and reconciling all the differences.

K. I don't have any work, but I do have a brain and time. So, I might as well use what I have and do more...act as if I'm employed by the greater good and my own need to better take care of myself and my communities.

Thus, a letter to the editor just written and submitted:

I'm a bit flummoxed by Sen. John McCain's proposed Gas Tax Holiday.

With Sen. McCain's plan, Virginians will receive an average savings of $30 over the summer, but our state will garner losses of about $188 million and more than 6,000 jobs across the commonwealth.

How is this a sustainable solution to our energy and oil crises? Any businessperson or second-grade math student can answer that it's not. We can't keep spending more money, taking more money from our infrastructures, in order to gain a few shallow savings. Our current administration has made the "Robbing Peter to pay Paul" philosophy into a national pastime.

My mother receives Social Security disability benefits and Medicaid. She also lives in a rural area, many miles from her doctors, grocery and other stores, her church, and her friends. I've heard her say many times that she's skipped church or doctor's appointments because she can't afford the gas. In this economy, she can't afford to sell her house and endure getting kicked off her benefits until she spends through the meager money she would get.

Does she need savings at the pump? Yes. More importantly, though, she needs a government and a citizenry that will bring solutions to provide better roads and services to her locality, to give specialists a reason to stay in her area, to stop increasing her copays and produce a better means of taking care of our disabled and getting them involved in life.

I think what makes sense is Obama's proposal to invest $150 billion over the next 10 years in renewable fuels, and create 5 million sustainable jobs. I'm encouraged by Obama's plan to close the Enron loophole to curb energy speculation that's driving up the cost of oil. So far, Obama has presented me with opportunities to be a part of solving the problems at the root, rather than just taking a few dollars and run.

We don't need a Gas Tax holiday. We need an energy solution, and I believe that Obama is the candidate to give us one.

I hate that Skype does not have a sanctioned iPhone application. Ever since Esam got Internet access in his room, I feel as if I’m chained to a computer, desperate to see that little “Available” icon. He’s on Yahoo Messenger as well, and I’m trying to lure him to AIM so that we can chat when I only have the iPhone near me.

This compulsion is so ridiculous. How much mind and electrical energy devoted to little bits of conversation that usually repeat the themes of money and love? Our chats, both electronically and telephonically, are just slightly varying scripts from the same play, and you think I would tire of it all, be bored senseless because he doesn’t feel comfortable to talk politics there.

Nope. I live for the “I love you”s and the “I miss you very much”s and the “If you don’t get a job soon, I will have to stay another year in Iraq”s. I realized this morning that I’m turning into a masochist. As much as I bitch about the daily money fights, I live for them as proof positive that I’m still in a marriage with a breathing, thinking person, rather than just some construct of memories and feelings lodged in my head. (Gah. I’ve been watching too much BSG lately.)

He can’t, and shouldn’t, discuss much of his life there. I consider most of my life either to tempt (going out with friends) or anger (not working for the past four months) him. We can’t talk politics or current affairs. So, I consider most of our conversations to be fluffy in comparison to our regular fare. At first, I about screamed every day at the inanity; now, I’m quite comfy with the shallowness, as long as it’s there every day like a bad soap opera.

Meanwhile, AT&T sent me the confirmation email that my iPhone has been shipped. What an extravagance just to be connected 24/7 in the hope that I won’t miss an email or a call or a chat. I’ve never been a phone person, and I hate this chain around my mind to objects of non-face-to-face communication. Yet, I’m whipped and I go into this endeavor willing to forego many little joys (like concerts or dinners at Edo’s). The budget drama deserves its own posting. I’m still in shock over it all.

is coconut oil.

Yesterday, after reading Crunchy’s post on its wonders, I went to Ellwood’s and bought a jar. I oiled my hair for about 30 minutes before my bedtime ablutions, then I applied the yummy-smelling stuff all over my body.

My curls have never looked so beautiful without Aveda styling products since...sometime in my youth, perhaps.

Seriously. Even today, my hair had started to straighten a bit, but I still looked as if I had used Be Curly and some Brilliance.

My feet actually looked presentable (you could actually see some toenails rather than just massive cuticles) and felt smooth, as well.

I’m not the most articulate of chicas today, but simplifying my beauty-spending habits hasn’t been much of a sacrifice. Going no’poo and using apple-cider-vinegar rinse (with some rosemary) have actually resulted in fuller, softer hair. The only side effect I’m experiencing is my dry scalp still is rearing its ugly head; I learned today that I might remedy that with a pre-rinse of 50/50 white-vinegar/water.

Bottom line. I’ve gone from a gal who spends, cough, hundreds of dollars a year on hair and moisturizer products to, squeal, a gal who spends less than 10 dollars (when you split the costs of the ingredients among their other beauty, cleaning, and food uses). I don’t feel deprived at all. Now, I need a similar solution to my media-spending.

Forwarded from my friend Scott’s blog. They will mail pounds of coffee, as well!

As you’ns all know, I was a founding board member for Amaranth and Scott’s earlier company, Cerulean. Please support them if you love coffee and/or you can. ☺

Subject: Amaranth Coffee of the Month Club

It's that time of year again and Amaranth is gearing up for a spectacular 2008-2009 season. This year the company will be heading west to present our work in a benefit concert at the Schomp Studio Theater at the Denver School for the Arts for their guest artist series. We will also be off to Beijing China for a week of performances. In spring, our residency with the Steward School will culminate in a benefit performance for their foundation and guest artist series, and rounding out the year will be our performances at the Arezzo Festival in Italy and a free performance at Dogwood Dell.

We need your help to make it a truly incredible year and one of the ways that might be of interest to you is our "Amaranth Coffee of the Month Club Membership".

What might this be?

Here are some of the details:

Coffee of the Month Club

- 2 pounds of locally roasted Costa Rican coffee (one for the 1st and 15th of every month, more can be ordered if desired)

- $7 (which is tax deductable) of the $14 p/lb helps to cover general operating expenses for 2008-2009 season

- Letter for your taxes from Amaranth stating your donation to our 501(c)3 organization for the year.

- Name on the list of funders/supporters on web-site and in video or paper programs for the 2008-2009 season

- Subscription to Amaranth e-newsletter

* Payment by cash or check may be made to Amaranth Contemporary Dance monthly or in one payment.

* Orders may be increased at anytime.

There are several other ways of helping out through volunteering, becoming a member in our general membership drive, or donating products or services for our benefit auction. If any of these might be of interest please let me know.

Contact me if you are interested and we will get you set up. My goal is 1,000 pounds of coffee for the year. I know we can make it! Scott Putman at info@amarantharts.com

I’ll write more on this topic later, but, at this moment, I wish I could just deduct from the savings and get a trike. This saving slowly for moments exasperates me, but I know that I need the waiting sometimes.

Still....

I will get a trike before my next birthday. My new friend Noah is going to build it, and my goal is to trike to the NRC in Fulton Hill to continue watering the children’s garden next year.

That is...If I can sustain my freelance lifestyle.

Meanwhile...the perspective of the garden and the house without the Rosemary’s Baby tree still leaves me breathless. My brain might overheat from all the visions slamdancing in my head.

I’m ambivalent.

While I loved the $1,200 check that helped assuage the back-tax monster, I don’t understand all the economics of another stimulus check when we have such a deficit. Granted, I feel as if I should research the actual bill more. However, Congress.org sent me a call to action to express my views on the proposed economic stimulus package, and my recent anger about all things financial resulted in a rapid-fire response:

Message sent to the following recipients:
Representative Scott
Senator Warner
Senator Webb
President
Message text follows:

{sic}
I am writing to you about the proposed economic stimulas package being
considered in the Senate Appropriations Committee this week.

I support the economic stimulas package, while I'm ambiguous with regards
to any tax rebate for middle class taxpayers. My major concern is the
increased funding to infrastructure, particularly food stamps,
home-heating assistance, and increased Medicaid.

My mother has lived for decades on around $560 a month in SSI and about
$50 in food stamps, with Medicaid assisting in her healthcare. Her
residence in rural America, because she cannot afford to sell her home and
move to town, has isolated her. Gas prices keep her from visiting her
therapist and other medical appointments on a timely basis, from attending
her church and visiting her friends. I help out where I can, but I cannot
afford to pay all her bills and mine as well. She eats only one meal a
day, with just enough snacks to keep her diabetes in check.

She didn't ask to be disabled. She was born with this disability, but the
system almost encourages her to die, rather than to participate. We need
to consider the plight of those who truly have limited choices. My mom was
once active with her church, her community, and her political party...as
much as she could be active with her illness. Many others like her are the
same. We need to give them some relief to allow them to live as full lives
and be as active citizens as they can be.

Sincerely,
Lynne Parson

In today’s grand adventures of LM, I was going to denounce a person’s hatred of a vowel by smothering him with the lovely a’choo of Miss A.

So, I look online and find that “Miss A” is now “Ms. A.” She still sneezes but looks VERY different from the poster that was on my first-grade classroom wall.

Then, I investigate further and feel shock spreading across my face.

The Letter People have been sanitized.

Cotton Candy is now Colossal Cap. (wtf?) Delicious Doughnuts transformed to Dazzling Dance. Itchy Itch is now Impossible Inches. Jumbled Junk is Jingle Jingle Jacket. Lemon Lollipops is Longest Laugh.

Horrible Hair, my favorite, is now Happy Hair.

That is just so wrong. How many people can identify with Happy Hair?

Quiet is Questions Quietly? OK. What does that say about the indoctrination of our children?

Ripping Rubberbands is Rainbow Ribbons, but Violet Velvet Vest is Vegetable Vest. Upsy-Daisy Umbrella is Unusual Umbrella. Wonderful Wink is Wonderful Words. All Wrong (Mixed-up) is Different...What does that have to do with the letter X?

At least, Mr. T is still Tall Teeth.

Plus, they are just plain ugly now.

When I have kids, I think I’m just going to make up my own abecedaria of monsters.

i could write a book about this topic.

i won’t.

i often say that i am fine with a couple dark days a month. it’s when the dark outnumbers the light that i should worry.

but, today...meh...i want to be adored. i want some resolution. i want to feel like capital letters and popsicles and enough blueberries to make me feel as if i’m a character in Willy Wonka.

i want to kiss someone and i want that little tickle that comes up from the throat and swirls along the arms.

tsk all you want.

i rarely seek answers. today, i want them. i want to rip the heart out from all the dramas, and...

i can’t.

i’m paralyzed.

it just is. tomorrow, i will wake and have a lovely brunch with some wonderful new friends. tonight, i watch Robin Hood (the BBC TV series, which is actually quite enjoyable) and drink chocolate soy milk and listen to the wind made by the ceiling fan on “Hi.”

i honestly am not lonely. today, i just am tired of the limbo, the solitary stance at the crossroads in this life’s year divisible by nine.

Tonight, I realized that I’m rather lucky to be fluid enough to participate in multiple community types. So many people within my various relationships wouldn’t necessarily get along or know what to say to each other, yet I seem to communicate with them fairly well. Maybe I connect, as well.

Someone yesterday asked, “Would your husband be here tonight, if he were in Richmond?” I paused, then said, “I think so.” Some times, I know that the answer would be no, just as I don’t prefer some of the places where he would go. Yes, this vast stretch of experiences and preferences can seem like a chasm in our marriage, but mostly, it presents as a long and scenic bridge that gives me a glimpse into the possibilities and improbabilities. Meh. At least, that’s how I take a look at it. I know that the boy often looks at me funny, like "How can you be you and still be having fun there?”

Remember my many lamentations regarding the Earth Box on the front porch? The box did a somersault over into the yard. I had blossom end rot. Blah blah. Well, I'm skeptical that I'll get any more blossoms, but I did pick five tomatoes today and about six or so are ripening on the plant. Maybe I could have gotten a better yield, but this many tomatoes more than pays for the seed and soil (not for the Earth Box itself...that ROI won't be for another year or so).

I swear Granny is laughing wherever she is.

OK. I am far behind in my garden documentation. My paper and online journals suffer. However, I'm doing a much better job at recording and learning (and doing) than I did in 2007, when I first started. Progress.

Meh. I have more to write later, but indulge in this illusion here with me. I think I went to 4H meetings once, then my mom took me out because of all the work she thought would be expected of her. Melissa was in 4H for years, and I sometimes wish now that I had used my many arts of manipulation to stay in the club. Not that I'm necessarily a joiner, but now I see that I missed out on a lot of skill-lessons by spending all my days reading to my cats.

I hate relaying tragedy. The words seem like little spikes bursting from my tongue, and I either sound as if I seek confrontation or magnanimous lamentation. “Sorry” then plays rock, paper, scissors on my nerves. I didn’t say it right. No one understands because I failed at the delivery.

Then, I get people who decide to play detective and come up with simple deductions and conclusions. I scream, “Nothing is so simple!” and marvel that this person always, always, always has to present a solution to every statement. All questions don’t get answers, in my opinion. Even if one person finds a surface reason and a perpetrator gets caught, we never will have all the facts. My friend said, “Well, you can take comfort that they will nab the guy or girl. It’s the ex-boyfriend or -girlfriend. They’ll get caught.” I don’t know these things, and I don’t take comfort in them either.

Maybe the fire was an accident, and maybe it was something suspicious. I can build up all the scenarios from a couple sentences of fact, but no one knows what is truth from a bunch of cop shows and hours of the nightly news. Even if this play follows such a script, the only fact that matters to me is that my friend’s teenaged son lost his father.

So, I sit and think I should keep my lips tight and sealed. Just as with the news about Esam going to Iraq, the responses never satisfy me, but, rather, they anger and confound me.

Maybe we should all wear signs on our back with our laments and then how we feel about it with our personal requests. I think my sandwich sign would end:

“Life continues. I don’t expect all the answers, but I’m grateful for the journey. Please spare any advice or detective work. Just give me a hug and listen...and maybe give me a cup of coffee or a glass of wine.”

I feel as if I were suspended on a trapeze. Twirling. Twirling. Falling. Getting yanked back up by the harness.

Part of me wants to throw clothes in a bag and get in the VW and drive back to Southern Illinois right now. Sigh. Then, I think it’s better to wait until after the funeral and all the harpies have had their fun. Sigh. I wish Esam were here.

I hate that the fire happened on my mom’s birthday. Isn’t it rather odd that Lee’s birthday was the same day as my father’s, then his death occurred on my mother’s birthday?

Pages and pages of Google results. Wrong information. (He was born in 1971, not 1972.) Pictures of the firefighters and the blaze. Press conference videos. So much information. I don’t want to look, but then I feel a compulsion. Then, I feel a revulsion that all these words and pixels are there for Garrett to keep reviewing, for us all to meander with the why’s and how’s.

Then, I get chills when I think how a St. Louis Cardinals’ game probably saved my oldest friend’s son’s life. Gah. I mourn the two who died, but there should have been four kids there that night. For some series of inane reasons, Lee and Sarah were alone with the dog.

He was always my friend, then a series of irrational (to me) decisions distanced us. I think we laughed the last time we saw each other. Didn’t we drink beer and laugh?

I need to go home more often. Just fuck the PTSD and all the crap and hypocrites from that place. Melis is there. We’re so different, yet I cannot remember a life without her. She’s reason enough to get in the car and drive.

Tonight was bliss. I feel as if I over-talked, over-shared, over-whatever. Yet, it was OK. I was among friends. Friends who cooked for me, gave me syrah and listened.

It’s all going to be OK. Even if we don’t close tomorrow because the lender jacked up the final amount by $1,500 and Esam doesn’t get paid until Thursday. Even if...whatever. It’s not as if this will be the first time I disappointed someone, or the first time that my best-laid plans went the way of the landfill.

We will close, and I will get a gig, and we will do a host of other wonderful things in the time we have left on this planet. So, keep fingers crossed that Bank of America will let me cash the Citibank check in the morning and get the cashier’s check for the closing.

And..if they don’t...I’ll come back and have a four-shot hazelnut soy latte at Gutenberg and read the whole afternoon away.

Another reason why I wouldn’t mind living in San Francisco:

The plan, naturally hatched in a bar, would place a vote on the November ballot to provide “an appropriate honor for a truly unique president.”
Supporters say that they have plenty of signatures to qualify the initiative and that the renaming would fit in a long and proud American tradition of poking political figures in the eye.

So, yesterday, Home Depot announced that it would begin collecting compact fluorescent bulbs for recycling. Yay for us in Richmond who have been collecting such things to take to IKEA excursions.

Yet...

The company's 1,973 U.S. stores will also switch to CFLs in light-fixture showrooms by the fall, a move expected to save it $16 million annually in energy costs.

And they’re just now making such a move?

Yesterday, I was reading a similar business case for Wal-Mart’s recent “green” decision making. While I don’t like Wally World, I concede that it is my Mom’s closest retail choice for pretty much anything. (Before we get into arguments here...With the price of gas and my mom’s limited disability income, yes, Wally World is the optimal choice in her community. The Evil Empire has squeezed out pretty much everyone else, and it would take her probably another 30 minutes of driving to find “local” options.)

So, these companies switch their philosophies, save millions of dollars, and divert millions of pounds of plastic and other waste from the landfills. Go, them! But isn’t it inane for any retailer to be in a position to save $16 million annually by switching light bulbs? If they’re saving that much in lighting costs, what are their heating/cooling bills? I’ve been in the Target in Mechanicsville, freezing in a huge cavern with maybe 30 other people midday. Do all the Barbies and PlayStations need to be any cooler than they are? Wouldn’t an even better option be to install CFLs AND more skylights (and actually use the skylights)? (American Family Fitness has skylights, then complete arrays of light bulbs all alit during sunny days—and I cycle in bafflement.)

Esam would say that I think too much about such things, but $16 million in SAVED lighting costs (so what are the totals?) just seem to be such a waste of energy and money. We have food crises. People like my mom can’t afford to drive to necessary doctor appointments. Utilities are shutting down people’s electricity because they can’t pay their bills. Dominion and other utilities talk of opening up new coal- and nuclear-power plants. Meanwhile, all these big box stores (and enclosed malls) keep gobbling up and demanding more energy to support stores that are near empty for great chunks of time. (Let’s be honest...When was the last time you went to Target and barely was able to walk down the aisles because it was so crowded?)

Can’t we collectively think in better ways than just switching products? Yes, go ahead and switch to CFLs for NIGHTTIME lighting. I use daylight in a first-floor apartment, and that’s fine for me until the sun goes down. At Home Depot, I’m sure several skylights would provide more than enough light for me to read the label on my Terracycle worm poop. Or just provide targeted task lighting for areas where you might need a bit more illumination.

Then, how many more millions would they all save? Heck. Maybe we all would save a bunch more money our register receipts and our own utility bills, and the debate over Dominion’s proposed coal-power plant in Southwestern Virginia would be moot.

Hi,

Real quick...A few things I wanted to invite Richmonders to do this week...and PLEASE spread the word. All these events are FREE.

Seminar on the Draft Downtown Master Plan and Your Role for a More Vibrant River City
5:30–7:45 p.m., Wednesday, June 25 @ Common Groundz Coffee House on West Broad
Presentation and Q&A on the Plan

I admit that I know very little about the Master Plan, but I think Wednesday’s seminar will be a great place to learn about it and how we can all take part.

You can see the draft at http://www.richmondgov.com/departments/communityDev/DownTownMasterPlan.aspx.


Amaranth Contemporary Dance presents "Planting the Seeds"
8:30 p.m., Friday, June 27 @ Dogwood Dell
I don't have to say much because most all of you'ns know my love for Amaranth, its work, and its people. Learn more at http://www.amarantharts.com/, and please come out and bring your friends.


Obama Campaign House Party and Registration Drive
6–8 p.m., Saturday, June 28 @ a friend's house in Shockoe Bottom
Come out and learn how you can get involved with the Obama campaign. Bring your friends, especially anyone who needs to register to vote. :D Email me for more info on this one.

Hope you'ns all have great weeks. Pick up a copy of Urban Views Weekly, the great new weekly with one of the best editors and writers I know, Miss Cesca Janece Waterfield.

I walk through the garden every day, just to see what needs to be done or what has bloomed or what is sad. Even when my back is too cranky to do much about anything, these little jaunts give me hope—if, in anything, the ability to learn.

So, if I’ve done anything right with this space is the party that the bees seem to have with the sage, oregano, and sunflowers. Today, a huge bumblebee decided that the borage flowers looked awful tasty.

“Are you sure that’s a....” I said. (Yes, I talk to the plants, bees, squirrels, birds, whatever.)

Sure enough, as soon as its huge body alit on a blue star, the flower and bee tumbled off the stem. The bee dropped its prey and went onto a sunflower. I picked up the flower and ate it.

Then, I checked a new tomato for blossom end-rot (my latest nemesis), and the tomato fell off, unblemished, into my palm! FFS! I was so mad. So far, I’ve lost about 10 tomatoes. Thppt.

Other things I noticed today:

My “wild” sunflowers (aka the ones that the birds dropped from the feeders) have multiple blooms. The past summer, I had one short sunflower plant with multiples, but, this year, pretty much all of the wild ‘uns have more than one bud!

Now, if the sunflowers that I actually planted would sprout. I think the birds took them. They probably were watching me as I planted them.

I haven’t yelled at a squirrel in a week or so. Odd, especially since Cee filled the birdfeeders yesterday and most of the sunflowers have, at least, one flower open. Seriously, I have been keeping my camera on standby to shoot a video of one of the motherflower whippersnappers taking a sunflower down. (I told them they could have one when I planted them, just so that I could catch their artful thievery on film.) But I haven’t seen them, and I can’t imagine why.

The Clarinette Lebanese squash is so amazing to me. So huge and beautiful. If anything happens to those plants, through some carelessness or act of nature, I probably will cry for a day.

Pumpkins seem happy, and I think I have one viable watermelon plant. The Stella strawberries still bloom! I need to harvest the turnip greens, and I hesitate because they look so happy nestled between the pole beans and fennel. One Swiss chard plant waits for the knife, as well. Potatoes need to be hilled up, and I’ll do that tomorrow.

I need to make a list of the “failures” and try to decipher the whys. Today, I spent about an hour at Chop Suey looking at gardening books. I bought a few, but still cannot find a “field guide” to seed, seedlings in different stages, and mature plant for various plants.