Cantaloupe and a brochure

So I printed out this brochure about burning trash, and took it and two fresh cantaloupes from our garden over to the neighbors’ house this afternoon. He was busy processing some tomatoes but was happy to take the melons. I asked if I could give him the brochure, too, and he said sure, looked at it, noticed the composting thing on the front, and said, “Oh, composting,” and started talking about that a little. Said he’d give the brochure to his wife.

I am pleased that I finally did something, and I think my approach was non-threatening.

We’ll see what happens next.

A few new things, and one nuisance

First, the nuisance.

Our newish next-door neighbors, whose two dogs are much nicer than the previous neighbors’ two dogs, regularly burn trash.

I haven’t gotten a really good look, but my impression is that it’s right on the ground, perhaps in a shallow pit, rather than in a proper burn barrel. This is illegal.

It smells toxic — I can’t imagine that it’s confined to paper and clean (unpainted, untreated, unstained) wood. This is illegal.

According to brochures and pages I found online, from state government sites, not only is burning trash annoying and illegal, but it’s highly polluting, and particularly likely to pollute our own yard and lungs. Children and the elderly are especially at risk of health problems related to burning trash, including cancer.

I am considering what course of action to take. Any advice?

New things.

I am cultivating some sourdough starter.

I had some in Ithaca, which I got from a church friend, and it made very nice English muffins. I didn’t have much luck making good bread with it — my bread was always undercooked and solid as a rock. And I got tired of feeding it.

But I want to try again. I don’t know anyone around here who uses sourdough starter, so I am following Sally Fallon’s directions in Nourishing Traditions.

Today is day two. Yesterday I combined 1/3 c filtered water and 1/3 c whole wheat flour, covered it with a cloth, and let it sit. Today I added 1/8 c each of water and flour, because the mixture looked too large to keep feeding it with 1/3 c. However, I was just surfing some sourdough sites and was reminded that you can discard some of the starter when first developing or maintaining it, to keep the volume manageable. And that discarding is better than reducing the amount of feed.

Next.

We finally got around to buying an extra freezer.

We got a large Frigidaire upright, manual defrost, and it now lives in the garage.

Inside are several bags of grated zucchini, several bags of roasted beets, several bags of sliced peaches, and several bags of peach scone-like objects, plus various meats and things moved over from the freezer above our fridge.

The scones were my usual recipe, but I’m increasingly disappointed in it. It makes a yummy object, but the texture is a bit odd, and doesn’t say “scone” to me at all. Perhaps oatcake is a better description. Anyway, I used one bag of frozen peach slices, minus the liquid. The peach bits had turned brown, but were fine otherwise. The scone-oatcake-things were tasty, though not very peachy between peach slices. Perhaps next time I would use the juice too, reducing the amount of other baking liquids.

And, on a related note:

We are planning to order a quarter of beef.

This was one of my main motivations for getting a freezer — buying grass-fed, untreated, local meat in bulk is less expensive than buying it by the piece, and with the farm we chose it’s even less expensive than buying supermarket meat. A front quarter, processed, wrapped, and delivered, is $2.25 a pound. Since it’s about 200 pounds of meat, it’s a big expense up front, but I think and hope it will be worth it.

Finally:

The new school year begins.

Mark goes back to work tomorrow, with a week of teacherly stuff, then classes begin next week.

Playgroup update

A new version of the old playgroup might be coming to life.

A few weeks ago the most recent organizer invited the old list plus some new folks to her house. No old folks came except me and the organizer, but there were three new people — one who’s been here but not out and about, one whose husband just got a job at the academies (not teaching, I think, but I forget what), and another who just moved here (I forget why).

Nothing happened after that…

Until one of the new ladies invited folks to join her and her younger daughter at the Culver lake beach today while her older daughter had a swim lesson.

Amy and I went, and the other two new ladies came as well. The inviter’s younger daughter is Amy’s age, which is nice.

The sand was nice, the lake water was very nice, not too cold and with a nice sandy bottom and no critters or seaweed (except a few bits floating). Amy really enjoyed playing in the shallow water where she could sit, stand, or crawl without going under. She also liked being carried out into the deeper part. The sky was overcast but it didn’t rain or storm.

I neglected the sunscreen, though, and Amy got a touch of sunburn on her shoulders.

We all agreed to meet again next week.

Prejudice

This post is a bit of a sequel to the one below about attractiveness.

Several folks have commented about how it’s good not to judge people by appearances, or how it’s silly to be intimidated by someone, and so on.

What I was trying to say, though, is a little different. It’s not like I consciously choose to judge someone or feel intimidated (yes, I am intimidated sometimes, but not by store staff… thinking someone or someone’s company is snobbish and exclusionary is not at all the same as being intimidated by them). I’m also not saying I’m completely at the mercy of my momentary emotional reactions to things.

However, every one of us brings our life of experience and our personality into every situation, and that means we do in fact have emotional reactions and flash judgments and that sort of thing.

I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to meet someone new or encounter a new situation without already having some ideas about the person or situation based on what one can observe — first impressions and all.

I also think that by noticing these ideas, these initial impressions, one can become more aware of one’s prejudices, and therefore be open to changing them.

Someone who isn’t aware of snap judgments is more likely to act on them than someone who takes time to notice and think about them.

In a social anthropology class in college, we read a book about a high school. There were mainly two cultures in the high school — I forget what the book termed them, but one group was essentially the popular types, the preppies or jocks or whatever, and the other group was the counter-culture, the artsy folks, the burnouts, etc. Over the time the researcher observed, both groups exaggeratedly developed their own symbols (behavior, clothes, ways of talking) in opposition to the other group. The symbols became more powerful and more important because of the existence and opposition of the other group. If the groups had been separated / isolated, it is likely that the groups would have become much more alike, and the individuals becoming more unique, not caring so much about their symbolic group badges.

This book is what I had in mind when I was talking about wearing “unattractiveness” as a badge — one of the groups I felt excluded from was the popular, trendy, good-looking set, and the kinds of people who tended to include me were the ones who, like me, had less fashion sense or less concern for fashion, and lacked something in the personal beauty department. So I could see that in my experience, there has been some symbolic opposition development — some resistance to things that seem to belong to the popular folks, some annoyance if they adopted something (like long straight hair left natural) that “belonged” to “my” group, and that sort of thing.

I mainly wrote my previous post because I am endeavoring to overcome these prejudices. I would like to further explore my own ideas about what I want to wear, how I want to look, and what I think is pretty, and to notice when I am tempted to act on prejudiced impulse instead of on reflection, either when choosing things for myself or in considering other people.

Those who seek, find

I’ve always had a very strong and controlling inner observer-critic — always monitoring what’s going on in my mind and heart and body, watching what I do and say, mocking at times, reminding of the ultimate pointlessness of it all.

Part of doing any work on mental health (or physical health, or developing a new skill, or anything) includes observing yourself and evaluating what’s going on and what progress is happening.

But the observer shouldn’t be the ruler and judge — just a noticer.

Anyway, last night as I took my Ativan and lay down (with Mark’s arms around me… touch is food), I was just slightly agitated but close to calm, and plenty tired. Every once in a while I wondered if I was anxious, but I noticed that if I looked too long or too deep or too closely, the anxiety would come. As if looking for it was calling it forth.

So I practiced looking quickly — and trusting that, hey, if I am indeed anxious, I’ll know it without having to check all that hard.

And I slept.

This morning, I am a little sluggish.

The picnic yesterday was challenging for me, being around people but not really engaging or being engaged in much conversation. I hung out with Amy mostly, and eventually found some peace inside where some other kids had ended up to play with the toys.

Demise

I am a little sad today, as the day stretches ahead with no playgroup outing in sight.

After last week’s lunch fizzle, I am mostly thinking that it’s time to give up. At least with one of those ladies, the one who sat elsewhere. Even though I keep thinking of childish ways to let her know that I feel rejected and miffed and that “I’ve gotten the message, now, thanks,” I am trying to be an adult. I am trying to be less black and white — trying to remember that it’s not always as simple as “she likes me” or “she doesn’t like me” — trying not to burn the bridge even while I am deciding not to venture across again without invitation.

As far as the playgroup, I am also sort of giving up. I am not going to organize and administer it. I hate administration and will not willingly take it on again.

I think about inviting individuals (and their kids) over occasionally instead.

Except who is there to invite?

Friend Amy is at the hospital with her new baby. Someone else is moving. Someone else is busy homeschooling. Someone else, and someone else, and so on. There’s one other person I think about inviting. I ought to call her sometime.

Has it always been this difficult for people to establish and maintain and develop friendships? Has the meaning of friendship changed? Has the methodology of friendship changed?

Friend Amy had me over one day and we cooked Turkish food together. She mentioned that that’s what Turkish women did all day when she lived there — hang out in each other’s homes, doing the cooking or whatever else. Sounds good to me.

Today I plan to plant the pumpkin and acorn squash seeds.

Um, that’s all I have planned.

Hmmm.

Today’s molehill

Playgroup today was just three of us moms and four kids. At the end we discussed the option of lunch at the dining hall, agreed we all planned to go there, and drove off.

I got there first, somehow, and parked Amy in her booster seat, got in line to get food, saw one of the other ladies and said hi, returned with food to find Amy still alone and the other lady sitting elsewhere. Huh. Maybe she didn’t see Amy, or maybe she hadn’t planned on eating together. Never saw the other one at all — maybe she was hanging out in her husband’s office first.

So how many of you would blow it all off and think nothing of it?

And how many of you, like me, add it to a long list of subtle signals, wondering if the whole list (not just this one occurrence) should be a clue that these ladies don’t really like me that much?

Because no one ever comes right out and says “I don’t like you.”

I used to be bad at social cues in the sense that I’d assume everyone liked me — now I’m bad at them in the other direction, very careful not to assume anyone likes me. I think both approaches are pretty unhelpful — people don’t like being around snobs OR whiners. And yet here I am.

Does it even matter whether people like me or not?

Maybe for some things… people who I let into my innermost self should like me. People I go to playgroup with, maybe it doesn’t matter.

I certainly need to be out and around people, so I suppose I will continue going to playgroup, and if they don’t like me, too bad (for them AND for me).

Just wish I had at least one or two other real friends who really like me and want to be with me and know me and for me to know them. And who are available and accessible.

Bitter

Once, in college, God prompted me to look up and write down all the verses I could find about bitterness — things like not letting a root of bitterness grow, and so on.

I could use that stack of verses lately; maybe I’ll redo it.

a) No one is coming to playgroup tomorrow. (Good side: they all (except the one with the newborn) did reply to my email.) One is pregnant and is having an ultrasound. One is watching her kids during her appointment. One just had a baby. One has a meeting with a cause she’s working for. One is going to a garage sale. One is substituting at her kid’s preschool. They all have perfectly acceptable reasons, and yet I want to thumb my nose at them all. (Did people really use to do that?)

b) There are other things, some way back, some more recent, some ongoing — and as much as I can rationally understand and accept these things, even theoretically view them with some compassion and grace and forgiveness, it doesn’t get anywhere near my feelings. Well, maybe a little near, but not enough to dispel the bitterness.

c) Bitter people are no fun. They are miserable and make everyone else miserable. I don’t want to be one.

d) Bitterness runs out of options pretty quickly. There are only so many people in the world, and I need to be in relationship with at least a few of them.

e) My parenting “motto” is compassion and respect. I work pretty hard at it in my relationship with Amy. I would like to extend that to other relationships.

f) Bitterness is dry and shriveled, shrunken, twisted up on itself. A little water, Lord, just a little water… where is this spring of living water? Help me out of these broken cisterns I’ve hewn. (Jeremiah 2.)

g) (I sooooooo love that chapter. “What fault did your fathers find in me?” “It’s no use — I love foreign gods and must run after them.” “Followed worthless idols and became worthless.” (Or, as I think Joe pointed out, it could be translated “Followed emptiness and became empty.” In fact, Joe gave a series of three lectures on this chapter, which used to be available online. I started transcribing them a long while ago and never finished; maybe I’ll take up that task again and ask him if I can post my transcriptions. Or I could ask him if I could post the sound files, too.)

The more things change…

The mini-crisis mentioned below?

Same as always, though the places and people change over the years.

Willful and unintentionally idealistic, if I can’t have what I want the way I want it, I’d rather not have it or anything at all.

I’m thinking particularly about the world of people, and how often (like in Africa) I am tempted to withdraw from that world, keep to myself, avoid relationships entirely and minimize social interaction as much as possible. If you’re not going to be my friend on my terms (which feels like, ‘if I’m not that important to you’), I want nothing to do with you at all.

Except that reaction doesn’t really punish you. It hurts me instead, because as much as the world of people sucks, I need it. Like everyone else I’m made for community and relationship.

But can I just say it also hurts to suck up that reality and continue to engage in social stuff?

The unintended poem from my journal last night says continuing social engagement is like saying:

Yes — I’m worthless scum.
My feelings may be trampled
But I’ll still come lick your crumbs.

This post is much more light-hearted than it sounds. I am aware of my own ridiculousness as well as the validity of my feelings and needs, and am endeavoring to piece everything together with compassion and respect.

Connect

I continue to confront moments of disconnect, dissatisfaction, discontent, which lead to depression and sometimes anger. In these moments I struggle to stay engaged with present reality, to avoid flamboyant symbolic actions that wouldn’t really accomplish anything, to also avoid burying and hiding myself, to avoid anything that would make things worse for me or for the others in my life.

Avoid, avoid, avoid.

Sometimes it seems there are not many options for viable, effective, appropriate action.

That’s when it gets depressing.

Reminds me of something Pastor Hopper once said —

Anger signals that you’ve got a goal that is being blocked.
Anxiety signals that you feel uncertain about accomplishing a goal.
Depression signals that your goal seems doomed to fail.

Sometimes the situation can be resolved by changing goals. That prospect can be depressing, too.

Over and over, sometimes frequently, sometimes long dormant, this insatiability, this nothing is ever good enough, this emptiness and meaninglessness creeps into my life.

It’s a good reminder that this world and this life are not my true home. That I am a full participant in the Fall and so is everyone else, and even creation groans.

I need to learn — still and ever — how to keep the holy discontent without it ruining my relationships, and how to live freely and graciously and contentedly and joyfully in the good enough.