The Central Illinois Agency on Aging is offering a series of classes: Connecting with Congregations. The agency intends to train local ministers or lay members of area churches to assist their aging parishioners with information on health care, housing, and transportation and other resources for seniors within a six county region of Central Illinois. I learned about the training program at the board meeting of the Interfaith Alliance, and of course, being an information magnet, I had to get in on this. At the informational meeting there was the president of our IA board and three middle-aged Protestant ministers, and me–freelance Pagan. It would be fair to say that the gentlemen were a little surprised, but I assured the organizer that I knew about the services that CIAA offered and had about 120 Pagans on my email list–and I wasn’t shy about offering referrals to people in need.
I am looking forward to the classes. I know I will have an opportunity make referrals, and I expect that once I know what CIAA and its affiliates have to offer, I will make use of those services myself–and when I complete the course, I will get a nifty little CIAA certificate. Cool! However, I can’t kid myself. I may be an Elder Pagan, but I am not a Pagan Elder. I don’t belong to any of the Pagan circles in the area and have absolutely no standing in the community. I am doing this for myself. Knowledge may–or may not–be power but it’s worth having. I can say I am gathering this information on behalf of the Pagan community, but frankly the Pagan community hasn’t asked for it and doesn’t care–not right now, anyway.
I just have to remember that I am taking this course on behalf of myself, and if it helps out members of the Pagan community that will just be a bonus.
It’s been a month since I’ve written anything here. For some reason I think I need a “big” story before I sit down to write something. –Well, maybe that’s not true. I’ve been writing the “big stories” over on Witches Brew, doing “30 Days of Advocacy Against Witch-hunts.”
And one book review for my Witches and Witchcraft Reading Challenge. My goal for the month was two, but I didn’t get the second one finished. In addition to the “30 Days of Advocacy” I put in extra volunteer hours for Global Village and read several books on Druidry and economics.
And gardened… I have a tiny tomato on both of my tomato plants. Baby tomatoes in May! Incredible! And I have had three small side salads from my leaf lettuce. The carrots and the beets have been soaking up the rain. And soon I should have a bowl full of strawberries. –Last summer I swore I was not going to plant another vegetable because I killed them all. I was going to do a pollinator garden–or was that the summer before?
I have to confess I have spent an inordinate amount of time playing National Geographic Jigsaw puzzles recently (see my blog roll). And I have been watching quite a bit of TV lately: Awake, Grimm, GCB, Survivor, PBS series America Revealed and this week Frontline’s“Power, Money, and Wall Street.” But I have been truly watching: I’ve powered down the computer and given them my full attention–not multitasking.
Ah, and a friend has joined the Stitchers Guild. We went to a Beader’s circle one evening. Since then I have restrung a necklace I began two years ago and screwed up and strung a brand new one. Neither of them is actually finished; they both need clasps. So I have been busy, and I guess I have written a “big” post after all.
When I was a kid, my grandmother had something that looked like a hacksaw. I think she used it to cut up meat bones. I wanted that hacksaw last night: I was making soup stock with a couple of big beef bones, and I really could have used a hacksaw to split that softball-sized joint and get at the marrow. I have a serrated knife that belonged to my mother. I think it’s meant to cut frozen meat. It has two sides: one with fine teeth and one with wide-spaced jack-o-lantern teeth. I don’t know if it’s strong enough to cut through the joint I have; it’s got a plastic hand grip. I’m afraid I’ll ruin it.
Tools are important. I have had a cheap corkscrew stuck in a bottle of pinot noir for the last three days. Couldn’t budge it! Couldn’t really afford it, but I found a wing corkscrew on sale at Kroger today. That cork came out–you should pardon the expression–slicker than snot!
I also bought an oven thermometer. For the first time in a decade I have a working oven, but I don’t think the temperature is accurate–actually, I’m not entirely convinced that it is a working oven. When Handyman Joe put down some linoleum in the kitchen Sunday, his garage sale power drill blew up in a huge cloud of gray smoke. We had to open the patio door and vent the place with a fan. The smoke detector did not go off. I turned on the oven Sunday night. The biscuits did not get all that brown, even though I let them bake longer than instructed. Still, when I took them out, the smoke detector went nuts! I think I have to take the sucker apart and vacuum out all the cobwebs.
It’s time to clean my mental cobwebs, too. I’ve been following The Archdruid Report, John Michael Greer’s blog on Peak Oil and Post-Industrial Society for two and a half, maybe three years. I’ve been studying Green Wizardry, Greer’s call for a new breed of freelance intellectual–an intellectual grounded not only in the arts of permaculture and domestic economy, but also in history, economics, and the arts of memory and magic. I’ve been reading like a crazy woman for the last six months–history, popular science, popular economics, social science–whatever appeared on the new books shelves at the library. And now, I think it’s time to focus my study. I am going to concentrate for a while on the Eighteenth Century, the Age of Reason.
I’ve read a fair amount on the American Revolution and some on Great Britain during that time. And I know a little bit about the French Revolution. I’m shocked to find that I know nothing about Frederick the Great of Prussia, who ruled during that era. And I’ve just recently learned a smidgen about the Ottoman Empire–mainly from reading about Lawrence of Arabia. I want to read John Locke and go further back and read Adam Smith.
And I want to know more about Druidry. Greer is the Grand Archdruid of The Ancient Order of Druids in America. I’m ready for a new bag of spiritual tools, so I’ve reserved Greer’s The Druidry Handbook from the library. I’ll pick it up sometime this weekend and see if Druidry is a me.
April Fish, y’all! That’s how they say it in France. A bout of flu mid-March knocked a hole in my month, but I seem to be on the mend. In the last four days of March I bought stamps, paid bills, went to Big Lots, Kroger, and Shop ‘n Save. I went to Firehouse Pizza for buffet binge, got my hair cut, and took back library books. Repairman came to look at the oven which has not worked in a decade–apparently nobody, including myself, could understand the printed directions for lighting it.
My garden is running rampant. I swear the strawberries grew almost two inches on Thursday during a three hour period. The lettuce is coming up, the columbine not only has buds, but they are already starting to turn purple. The violets are blooming and the lily of the valley is in bud. No sign yet of the beets–the container keeps drying out–or the carrots and chives. The herbs are growing like we never had winter.
I have been doing some mad garden science. A few weeks ago I had a rutabaga that sprouted. I cut off the top then decided to stick it in water to see if it would develop roots. The leaves got about two inches high, but it didn’t put out roots. I figured it would use up all the food in the slice of rutabaga and die, but I stuck it in a pot of dirt. It’s still growing! I don’t know if it will eventually bloom and seed–rutabaga, I learn, are biannual and seed in the second year. I don’t know if it will produce another purple ball. I did learn the young greens are edible. They have a peppery, cabbage taste. I have been careful not to pick too many leaves. I don’t want to damage the plant.
I am also trying to sprout a sweet potato. It was supposed to be organic, left over from last season’s farmers market. So far it does not show a will to thrive. I almost bought tomato plants last week, but decided I don’t trust the warm weather. And I need to repot and move my existing plants around to maximize my sunlight. I am going to have tomatoes this year! I can grow tomatoes! I can.
So what’s on the agenda for April? Now that I have a working oven, I intend to bake. The next door neighbor is planning another garage sale in a couple weeks. I need to dig out more stuff to sell. I also want to thin out the peppermint and sell some of them. I want to celebrate Earth Day at Forest Park Nature Center. I am thinking about writing for the Literary Arts competition at the Senior Olympics in May. I signed up for a witchy online reading challenge. I posted two book reviews in March (see my book list page) and I think I can do three posts in April. Once I get a few reviews posted, I may start soliciting Advanced Reading Copies of books from publishers.
And I will continue with my volunteer work. April looks like a busy month.
If you don’t know by now, Chick-fil-A is coming to Northwoods Mall later this summer. A bunch of Peoria folk are already standing around with their tongues hanging out.
I have never eaten at a Chick-fil-A; I am poor and seldom eat out, and I never go to the mall, so I don’t expect I would be a Chick-fil-A customer under the best of circumstances. Chick-fil-A’s corporate reputation, however, precedes them. In January, it was revealed that Chick-fil-A’s charitable arm, the WinShape Foundation, was a sponsor of the Pennsylvania Family Institute and Focus on the Family, fundamentalist Christian groups that campaign hard against equality in marriage.
And Chick-fil-A is one of those corporate bullies, dropping their “cease and desist” letters on micro-entrepreneurs. Could you possibly confuse the chicken fryer’s trademarked slogan ‘Eat Mor Chikin’ with a Vermont T-shirt maker’s ‘Eat More Kale’? There’s only one more day to go on Bo’s Kickstarter page, and he has already exceeded his campaign goal of $75,000 to make a documentary about his David vs Goliath battle with the Big Chicken. But you can sound the warning “The waffle fries are coming! The waffle fries are coming!”
I am trying out a new theme. I think it’s looking pretty good. If I decide THIS IS THE LOOK, I’ll switch over Witches Brew and let Peoria Illinoisan have his theme back.
What can I say? Writing about New Year’s Resolutions is booooorrrrring! I counted out my pennies; I have almost $10 worth–not enough to bother dragging crosstown to the coin machine. I am not purchasing sweets in plastic clam shell containers. I broke down and bought a ceramic bowl to heat food in the microwave. I got a couple of glass bowls with lids for storage. I am going to a family birthday party in two weeks. The weather is warmer, the days are longer, my depression doesn’t seem as bad.
I want to garden, but I am afraid winter is not done with us! Too bad: scientists now think that Mycobacterium vaccae, a bacterium found in garden soil triggers the release of serotonin in our brains. And harvesting produce–or even smelling or cooing over ripening fruit or berries–can release dopamine, giving us that little burst of bliss when we taste the first strawberry or tomato of the season.
The robins are back, the cardinals are trying out their territorial songs. I want to work my patio full of pots.
Let’s make this short: my little homeless guy showed up Friday morning, looking for a couple of onions and some change to buy toilet paper. In spite of the snow, he has been snug in his tent–which, I was startled to learn, is pitched in a little wooded area in the middle of town, overlooking I-74. I had assumed that he had pitched the tent in his buddy’s garage. Last December when this saga began, he had been freezing in the guy’s truck. I gave him two bags of groceries, including a couple of cans of Sterno–which he had never heard of–and a few bucks for TP and whatever.
Then the gal in the flooded condo woke me yesterday morning, wanting to know if I’d like to do brunch, her treat. Her ship had come in (no telling how long it will take her to run it aground and strip it bare, but no matter…). I tend to be compliant when awakened from a sound sleep–unless you’re a pervy home-invader–so I said yes. As we pulled in to Glen Hollow, we spotted one of the panhandlers who work the entrance, and I started to tell her about Little HG. Well, when we parked at Hometown Buffet, she snatched a $100 bill out of her wallet and gave it to me to split with Little HG.
I was appalled! 1) I was still pissed with her. 2) Like I said, she’s bi-polar and it’s not a matter of “if” she will piss away this new money, it’s only a matter of “when.” But I took the damned bill…! We still have February and March ahead of us, and who knows how many days of killing cold. But now I am in her debt…
And ironically, I discovered last week that I screwed up last year’s Illinois income tax–and the state sent me almost $200! But that went into a savings account!
And while I am here, how am I doing on the NYRs? 2012, Ready or Not:
Domestic Infrastructure
Christmas cards are organized. The plants on the porch seem to be doing well. The catmint still has some living branches. I need to water them tomorrow. I try to give them a drink when the temperature gets up around 40.
Household Economy
I have been gathering up all my loose change for a trip to the Coinstar machine. I expect I will cash them in this coming week. I have not done anything about the Bev Doolittle print.
Resource Consumption
It’s damned hard to break the plastic habit. Bought no bakery goods in plastic shells, but did purchase marked-down deli chicken in plastic trays. I tell myself I can start vegetable seeds in them in a month or two. And I am still eating out of a disgusting storage bowl at work. It’s obviously been nuked twenty times too many and should go into the trash, but I haven’t got a soup bowl to replace it. I will have to add that to my shopping list next time I go to Big Lots. I also got one more window covered with plastic. “Ghetto insulation,” somebody called it on Facebook. It does make a difference. I have one more I need to do.
Cottage Industry and Subsistence
Have gotten off track with the mending. We have pinking shears at the shop, so I took in some scrap fabric and made myself some cute, colorful patches. And I bought a handful of used books at the library–and I am headed to a used book sale at Forest Park Nature Center on Saturday. I did go to B&N yesterday–first time in six months!–and bought new books, which felt very, very good. But still, I have been borrowing most of my reading material from the library.
Family and Community
Spent a lovely afternoon with my sister, niece, and great-nephew at Glen Oak Zoo this month. I have not done any genealogy, but I need to get back to it.
Outside Work
Our January Interfaith meeting was canceled due to snow. I have a board meeting this evening and plan to pay my membership. I have put in a lot of hours at Global Village this month, both in the shop and online working on our website. Have not done anything with my resume.
Time and Happiness
It seems like I struggled with depression all month, but that’s a chemical imbalance and not fair measure of happiness or unhappiness. It certainly had a huge impact on the use of time because there were several days when I could barely drag myself out of bed. I let chores slide. I didn’t feel like cooking…
On the other hand, I had a good time at the zoo, and we went shopping afterwards. They had bought me a get of pans for Christmas. Unfortunately, the set was not what I needed, so we exchanged them at WalMart. I am ridiculously delighted with the shiny Farberware sauce pan I got. It’s a beautiful tool that should outlive me. It’s a bit temperamental; twice I’ve had to clean up oatmeal that boiled over. But it is beautiful.
I am still spending too much time on Facebook, though I am still paring down the news feeds, and I work at single-tasking.
I will be posting February resolutions soon. In the mean time, for motivation, I am watching “Chickens of Fire.” Enjoy.
In the last 24 hrs. 3 people asked me for money. And I said no! I am tired of trying to save people.
The “friend” who decided, after 16 months, to come back into my life has been staying in a motel this last week because her basement condo was flooded when a contractor broke a nearby water main. The condo is still a wet, stinking mess, so she needed $60 for another night at the Motel 8. This is the woman whose son, The Giant Slug puts $200 worth of lap dances on her debit card. He is sharing the Motel 8 room. He pushing 40 and hasn’t worked in a couple of years. She thinks it’s awful that his daddy refused to give them money (she pays the Giant Slug’s child support–and she divorced his daddy 30 years ago). Their income is twice mine. I offered them groceries, but I have no money for motel rooms. I said no!
And this morning a nice young man sauntered by my bus stop. His mother always gave him coffee to soothe his throat when his asthma kicked up, so he was off in search of coffee–oh, and could I spare a dollar. I said no, but I offered him a cough drop.
And this evening my Little Homeless Guy showed up.
I was very surprised to discover that I only mentioned him once last winter on this blog, but I told the sorry story on Witches Brew; “My Brother’s Keeper” and “My Brother’s Keeper II”.
When Little HG took the room with the paranoid schizophrenic, the landlord warned him, that the guy never kept a roommate for any length of time. And the $50 a week quickly went to $100 a week. And he was expected to clean up after the schizo. I told Little HG in March that I couldn’t help him anymore with rent. I could help him out with groceries, but we had used up my meager savings. I offered to do job searches for him on the computer, teach him to ride the bus, and get him to one of the Peoria agencies that would help him find a job and keep a roof over his head. But the weather was getting nicer and he wanted me to help him find a tent.
Well, he’s been living in a tent for a month now, and the weather is just starting to get rough. ?He’s suffering and he want a motel room to get out of the cold. –Sorry, but I can’t do that. And I am not going to invite him to stay with me. An ant is what it is, and grasshopper is what it is, and I am a grasshopper who wants to become an ant. There’s no question that I am agitated and worried about him, and I would feel like hell if something happened to him–but he adamantly will not go to a shelter, and he brushed off all the help I could offer.
