Tag: McMinnville

How Avoiding Conflict Can Create Greater Conflict

I’m a total basket case right now.  My mom is super stressed about the move and is pestering me to do more packing and freaking out that the biggest U-haul isn’t going to be big enough and her favorite stand-by worry – how will everything fit into the new house?  Even though we’ve gotten rid of tons of stuff and some huge pieces of furniture and 2 more are spoken for and my craft room is 75% lighter than it was.  Meanwhile, Philip is back in California to start his new job which leaves me with the kid and the pets and my workcheck didn’t come when it usually does so here it is June 3rd and the only reason I don’t have minus 79 dollars in my account is because Philip’s old bosses owed him a small last check and I went and begged them to cut it early.  Which they did.

Meanwhile I’m drinking way too much and eating so much cheese you could start a cheese festival in my kitchen.  I know I said I wasn’t going to, that now I was going to start counting calories and all that, and I did.  For a day.  Then my brain just freaked the hell out and said that trying to work on self discipline while living in a town that’s gotten even more stressful to live in since that post I wrote is a bad idea.  During a cross state line move?  During the last couple weeks of my kid’s school year when things have been difficult and the teachers are not pleased and Max has been getting a lot more stressed… during a time when I get to do this parenting gig on my own for a few weeks… and be packing shit up, and be working at the same time?  I think I jumped the gun there.  I’m just anxious to start cleaning up my diet and my health but I need to be in a less stressful environment to start this in.

So yeah, I was fooling myself.

So I went to the Saturday Market yesterday and I can’t lie – going out in public is even less fun than it used to be since I aired my grievances about this community.  The thing is, most of the people I was complaining about in that post are people whose lives I’m already not a part of.  I see them accidentally IF I see them at all.  Since I’m not in their circles of friends or even acquaintances it’s not like I know what their reactions were to what I said.  And I certainly haven’t been seeking them out in their various online haunts because why would I seek out confirmation that they’re all pissed off and don’t like me more than ever before?  So going around in public means I may run into any of them and it may not be pleasant.

And I did.  I ran into the daughter of one of the people who hurt me and she did everything possible to avoid having to acknowledge that I was standing right there next to her.  I tried to make eye contact because I’m not ashamed of anything I said in my post and I wasn’t the person being an asshole in the first place. But she couldn’t look me in the face.

I also heard that my post made some waves in a different circle as well.  Apparently it was shared around and I have no idea what got everyone riled up because this group already knew how I felt and this was an OLD story – a story I already shared publicly a couple of years ago.  I didn’t ask for any details because there’s nothing that group of people can possibly say that I’d want to know about.  What I AM interested to know is why the fuck they’re still reading my blog in the first place?!  I don’t read theirs.*  Since I had my falling out with them I don’t read their blogs or try to seek their presence online because the way I figure it is that if they don’t like me in real life and didn’t let me in their inner circle and if in the end we had a big falling out – I don’t think they would really like me keeping tabs on them.  Not that they’d know necessarily**.  But I kind of figure that not reading about their private lives (or trying to) is respecting their wish to not have me in their lives.  Why the hell would they read anything I write?  What can they gain from it?  Fodder to keep disliking me?  Because it’s a sure thing I’m eventually going to say something about homeschooling or something else that will rile them and all their friends too.  Are they looking for reasons to be riled?

In the end it doesn’t really matter what they do or don’t do.  I just find it strange.  On the other hand it does kind of make me want to write a big huge post on homeschooling just to give them something really juicy to get upset about.  Oh! oh!  Or I could launch into a huge post about vaccinations or maybe I could write a scathing post about Libertarian delusions or about circumcision!  The possibilities for riling this group of people up (and many other separate but similar groups in McMinnville) is limitless.  If I was looking for trouble, this group of people make it tantalizingly easy.

But the truth is, I’m not interested in riling people up.  I never do it ON PURPOSE.  It’s the price I pay for being honest about how I feel in a public forum and it’s a price many writers pay.  Some people think I enjoy stirring shit up.  I don’t.  It just so happens that my opinions about things which I choose not to keep secret riles people up.  I am not going to change my opinions just to keep everyone calm and happy and comfortable.  Generally speaking, when I’m out in the real world I try to temper how I present my opinions and I have gone overboard trying to be respectful of people who are not respectful of me.  But my blog is MY place to say what I want and anyone who comes here knows that I say what I’m thinking and I don’t sugar coat it here.  It’s the one place I can just be myself.  All the time.  Anyone who comes here is, in a sense, visiting ME.  Don’t like me?  Don’t visit me where I am being myself and being honest.

And in my honesty I think I can say that I have been as hard on myself and my own idiocy and shortcomings and bad behaviors as I am on other people.  I have admitted publicly to nearly every negative aspect of my personality that has been revealed to me in my interactions with people.  I don’t see many other people doing the same.  In this at least I take some pride.  I share my opinions publicly and pay the full price for it.  I acknowledge at all times that I’m making choices and sometimes I make choices and don’t like the results.  But I take responsibility for making them, for having had the choice to do otherwise or take another path.  My thoughts also evolve.  My opinions, though strong, are not immutable.  I am open to seeing new points and admitting when I see that I’ve been too closed off or even completely wrong.  That is also something I take pride in – I am constantly working on maintaining the flexibility of my mind.

Right now I don’t really want to go out in public until I move.  It is completely cowardly of me.  I did look animosity in the face at the Saturday Market but it’s not like it didn’t take a great act of strength not to turn immediately and run and pretend, like she did, that we hadn’t seen each other.  I did want to run and pretend and that bothers me.  I have no reason to be ashamed of how I feel or that I said it all out loud.  I knew I’d be cutting more social ties but I didn’t expect to feel hurt all over again.  I expected not to care.  I expected a little discomfort and a greater degree of loneliness in my last couple months in McMinnville.  But I didn’t expect those people I called out to have the power to hurt me even more.  But they do.  And it makes me so ashamed of myself for being so weak, for caring so much about people who don’t care at all for me.  To have always cared so much and been so easily hurt means I’m a weak-ass person with super thin skin.  Why am I not more tough?

So it feels like a curse to be a writer with the compulsion to share my stories and perspectives out loud with the world, to work so hard at maintaining honesty with both myself and with everyone else – but to also want people to like me and to be hurt so easily by the thoughtlessness (and sometimes the meanness) of those around me.  What I thought about yesterday is how much I hate conflict.  No one realizes it because I seem to always be barreling straight into conflict and actually CAUSING conflict.  I admit that that’s how it seems.  Telling anyone that I hate conflict and will do almost anything to avoid it is like trying to convince people that I am innately very shy.  I have learned, over the years, how to appear NOT shy to protect myself and to deal with all the painful social situations in which being shy will only add to the painfulness.

What I realized is that my avoidance of conflict leads to greater conflict.  I tend to keep my hurt feelings to myself for long periods of time.  Rather than tell a person directly that they’ve hurt my feelings I empathize with them and try to smooth out whatever difficulty we’re having with subtle hints that maybe they’re being thoughtless of my feelings.  This almost never works.

It’s like this – if we’re friends and we’re having coffee together and you go into an explanation of how circumcising boys is an evil act of mutilation and I know that you know that I chose to circumcise my son, I now feel personally attacked.  You could have chosen a much more neutral way of stating that same opinion but in choosing such vitriolic language I now feel like you think I’m an evil child mutilating criminal.  How can we be friends if you think this of me?  My approach then is to subtly present an alternative view point.  I will probably also try to make sure you realize that I am one of those parents with a circumcised boy.

I feel hurt but I won’t admit it to you because that would make me weak and stupid.  I won’t even admit it to myself right away.  So every time this subject comes up you will pound a little more hurt into me and I will make excuses for you.  You just don’t realize how intolerant and mean you sound.  You just don’t realize that being friends means that even if we have different viewpoints we will try to understand each other with kindness and tolerance because that’s what friends do.  I will not share my hurt because I don’t want any conflict which if I confront you will create an uncomfortable situation between us.

It doesn’t occur to me until months later that I’m still hurting and you keep hurting me and I keep taking it and trying to gently inspire you to take my feelings into consideration and I am very very tolerant of your vitriol because obviously it’s up to me to be tolerant of you since I’m the one with hurt feelings – the person who is hurt is just weak and needs to fix themselves.  Confrontation solves nothing.  Right?

Wrong.  I am only realizing how wrong this approach is.  I could have saved myself years of pain and feelings of anger at how I’d been treated if I could have just been honest in the first place and said “When you say that people who circumcise their sons are evil child mutilating parents you are telling ME that I’M an evil child mutilating parent.  Is that really how you feel about me?”  This way you have to either temper your opinions to be more thoughtful and less hurtful and actually acknowledge my hurt feelings or you have to come right out and say “Yes, I do think you’re an evil child mutilating person.” in which case we are NOT friends because no one can be friends with a person they think is evil or bad.

Instead I slog along trying to put band aids on my feelings and making excuses for other people until eventually I just can’t stand it any more.  One day I wake up and I realize that I have been allowing people to walk all over me because I don’t want to have any conflict and I get really fucking pissed off.  At myself, yes, but also at the people who hurt me either out of constant thoughtlessness or out of actual desire to hit me with their darts.  So I explode.  I reach my limit and it all comes out and it’s much worse now because I’m really angry and I’m actually still hurting because apparently I’m a very thin skinned beast and I hate myself and you for almost the same reason.

This isn’t working for me at all.  This aspect of my personality really wasn’t revealed until living in McMinnville because mostly I haven’t had problems with my friends hurting my feelings so often or thinking that my beliefs or choices are evil because AT A FUNDAMENTAL LEVEL MY REAL FRIENDS THINK I’M A GOOD PERSON WITH GOOD MORALS AND NO ONE CAN ACTUALLY BE FRIENDS WITH PEOPLE WHOSE CHOICES THEY THINK MAKE THEM ABUSIVE OR EVIL.  My close friends and I don’t always agree about things and sometimes we annoy each other and need to take a breather but I always know that they will still love me and want me in their life even if we don’t agree about everything.  That’s priceless.  If I’m insensitive to them about something and they seem hurt I NOTICE and I apologize and I work on being more sensitive to them because I love and value them.  They do the same for me.  We might bicker but we work things out and we rejoice when rough patches are smoothed out and it works because we have each others’ backs in this life.

My behavior with regard to dealing with conflict is typical of children who grew up in abusive situations.  I’m scared of conflict and in trying to avoid the million little normal conflicts in life I unintentionally create much more explosive conflicts later.  People think I do it on purpose.  I don’t.  People think I enjoy pissing people off.  I don’t.  People think I am a shit disturber for FUN.  I’m not.

What I have to do is work on confronting people at the moment they’re being hurtful or being assholes or just being thoughtless.  I have to work on not being subtle about it.  I have to be direct even when I feel like I’d rather die than accuse someone of hurting my feelings.  Even when I am terrified of them saying “Oh yeah?  Well I think you’re an evil person for voting for Obama.  And also you’re just too fat for me to like.”  At the core I want people to like me.  I care.  I’m the typical outcast girl who pretends not to care what anyone thinks but really does because not being liked doesn’t feel good to me.  Especially not being liked by people I like.  I need to learn to just nip things in the bud and face things directly.  And when someone tells me “Yes, I think you’re hurting your child by sending him to public school” I need to say “Then you don’t respect me or my choices and we can’t hang out because I find that hurtful.” and not lash out with unnecessary meanness and definitely not try even harder to make them change their minds about me.  Because they won’t.

Philip pointed out to me that while I’m the only person in this town apparently willing to publicly say how I feel about those individuals I spotlighted, I am definitely NOT the only person who has had those same experiences with them or who shares my opinions of their general character and behaviors.  I will never out them because maybe they have a lot more to lose than I did (like, they still have to live here) but I think it’s worth noting that those people who made an enemy of me have made other enemies as well for the same reasons.

So if my enemies are reading this – take note that it isn’t just one person you’ve been hurting.  It isn’t just me.  I’m just the only vocal one.  If you’re coming here and reading this (why?  why? why?) then would you please look at yourselves and your interactions just as I’m looking at mine?  We are all culpable for our interactions with each other.  Just as I have admitted that in our interactions I have not reacted well and in some instances been hurtful in retaliation you are also responsible for how you behaved to me and you are responsible for how you behave with others.  I’m taking responsibility for my part.  Take responsibility for yours.  Not to me, obviously, but inside yourself and with the people still in your life who are looking to you for kindness, for tolerance, and for empathy.

Also – I really would like it if all you people who don’t like me in real life would stop reading my blog.  I can’t stop you, of course.  But I really do think it’s ridiculous.  It’s like you don’t want me in your life but you keep knocking at my front door***.

For now I suppose I’ll still force myself to go out in public and look in all the faces of the people who don’t like me and have hurt me and just hold my head up high because there are a lot of other people in this world (and even in this godforsaken town) who actually DO have my back, who like me, who enjoy my company and who have treated me very well.  I must give those people my energy now and make sure I let them know how much I appreciate their friendship and support.  Especially those people who have continued to be friends with me and show me kindness and warmth even though they are also friends with people who don’t like me.  I can’t begin to say how much I respect people who stick with you even when their friends don’t.

So.  For 28 more days I’ll do my best not to hide myself more than usual.

But would it be entirely wrong of me to shop at Roth’s now instead of Harvest Fresh?

*Full disclosure – I did read one post because I never did close my flickr ties with one person in this circle and something really stressful happened in her life which I found out from her flickr pictures – so I did want to know the end of that story.  But I haven’t been back since.  I just sent her good wishes whether she wants them or not.

**Who are we really kidding here?  This is a small town and I don’t seek out information about my social enemies and yet it STILL gets brought to my attention.  Small towns = no secrets.

***Just because you don’t comment and I can’t see you doesn’t mean I don’t know that you’re still coming here.  Yesterday wasn’t the first time I heard that you’re still reading my blog.  See the footnote above.

The Price to Pay is Emotional Fallout

I’ve been writing maudlin posts and deleting them.  I’ve been up late talking out my great failings as a person and working through emotional pain I’m ashamed to feel.  I’ve been thinking about the emotional fallout attendant with naming your pain out loud and telling stories no one wants you to tell.  Turning the rocks in the ravine up to an unaccustomed light.  I’ve been asking myself what kind of person I want to be and comparing it to what kind of person I am.  I have read my previous post over and over to look for reasons to feel regret and shame and a way back to silence.  I have found none.  We’re all responsible for what we say to other people and how we interact with them and if we don’t want to be misunderstood it is incumbent upon us to evaluate how we can communicate more clearly.

One of the people highlighted in my burn pile posted something about truth on facebook.  Something I’ve heard before.

“There’s my truth, and there’s you’re truth, and somewhere between the two is the actual truth”

I disagree.  I think it’s a cop out.  It’s a way of saying “I don’t have to listen to your truth because it is wrong and will never be correct because neither of our truths are the real truth” when the person saying it really means “Except that my truth is the real truth and I can know this while deflecting any responsibility for yours with this handy little saying”  I have no idea if this posting was in response to what I wrote or not.  If it’s not then it’s profoundly interesting and if it is it’s profoundly snaky.

It’s been days since I wrote that post and I think the fallout is over now.  I was so emotional and sad and hurt for days after releasing that.  I had a good cry over it and now I think I’ve pretty much processed the shit out of my feelings and it’s time for the next chapter.  The debriefing period is nearly over.

So much good is happening and I want to say that I’ve been shaking uncomfortably all day in a state of strange anxiety mixed with absolute complete excitement.

Philip was offered a job with Panamax/Furman Sound today.  This job search has been grueling for him.  He’s worked so crazy fucking hard and we had to keep our plans somewhat quiet for 3 months and if you’ve had to look for work recently you know it will peel you RAW.  I am beyond proud of him for all the work he’s done on his resume and portfolio and keeping going when he just wanted to fall in a heap.  He’s so excited to work for this company and it pays 20K more than he’s earning now and has BENEFITS.  I think I’m in a state of shock that the search is over, the hiring contract papers are signed and he’s back home with us to finish up some freelance projects and start helping us pack.

So now the reality of the move is before me and cleaning out and weeding through my things will become more intense.  But I’m happy.  Really happy.  I’m also starting to turn my attention to my upcoming work on the Post Apocalyptic Cookbook (which, if we end up going to war with Iran, will be more useful than ever) and I’m also going to get back on track with my health goals.  I can’t concentrate on such things very much when I’m just trying to get through today and tomorrow and everything is in a state of suspense.  Having such a huge hurtle reached and knowing I’m going back to a community I fit into I won’t have to be on guard all the time and I can now turn to other things.

So here we are at Sunday.  I’m working and then I’m going to help Max with a school project.  Then I’m just going to relax.  If I can remember how to do that.

The Dark Side of McMinnvillains

Living in McMinnville has made me feel like I’m stuck in an alternate universe where people don’t behave the way you expect them to, especially the adults.  Hippies aren’t hippies here (peace loving liberal people) they have M16s and 40 children and live on compounds so that they don’t have to be part of the rest of us.  Don’t be fooled by beardiness or hippie-style clothes.  Having tattoos doesn’t mean you’re a rebel soul up here.  In fact, having tattoos says exactly nothing up here except that you were bored and had enough money to get another tattoo.  Everyone has tattoos here!  Libertarians in California are all for smaller government and their approach isn’t particularly extreme but here in Oregon the Libertarians are a scary group of paranoid people who I’m pretty sure are all in need of anti-psychotic meds but would never get them because medication is part of the government complex BRINGING US ALL DOWN and besides,  seeing regular western doctors leaves a paper trail.

Finding people I understand and can really be myself around has been a huge challenge.  Then there’s the townspeople in general.  Shopping at Winco is like getting my weekly circus entertainment.  Everywhere I go I am reminded that the greatest danger of living in a small community is to let it make you smaller in the head and heart.

I am going to list some of the things people have said and/or done to me and things I have observed that I need to place on one big pyre of outrage to be burnt and my hope is that when I’m gone the stars of these stories* will learn to stop being so small in the heart and head.

Stories and anecdotes for the burn pile:

  • I was chatting with a bank teller and mentioned that I’d gone to San Diego last year for a conference.  She said wistfully that she’d never traveled but would like to some day.  I mentioned that my favorite recent trip had been to New York.  She told me she’d be scared to go to New York.  I asked her why.  She said “Because of all the diversity.”
  • I was working at a holiday fair a few years ago and naturally got into conversation with the people there.  One lady asked me about my relationship with Jesus so I told her I wasn’t religious because I was raised by wolves.  The next morning she comes up to me with a very concerned look on her face and says she’s been thinking about my comment that I was raised by wolves and hoped I didn’t mind her asking if I was Native American.  Erm-uh-????**  Once I disclosed that by “wolves” I really meant “hippies”*** she decided I wasn’t exempt from her proselytizing and proceeded to pound me over the head with her club full of Jesus.
  • I was getting my hair cut the other day and mentioned that one of the things I’m going to miss about this area are the u-pick farms because Sonoma County doesn’t have any.  She said “You’d think with all those Mexicans in the fields down there that there would be plenty of them.”
  • I was told this story by a man who knows I send my child to public school “When my kids and I would drive by the public school I would tell them that that’s where all the children go whose parents don’t love them.”  I wanted to punch him for that one but he could snap my neck like a twig so I stuffed my feelings as far down into my body as I could and will probably get stomach cancer because of it.
  • Remember the time I had a yelling match WITH A REAL LIVE YOUNG CHAUVINIST?  It was when we discovered that we were going to go bankrupt and we told our tenants that the house they were living in was going to be foreclosed on and they could stay as long as they wanted, rent free, until the bank actually took it.  And remember how the tenant was someone I considered a friend and her boyfriend called me up and asked to talk to the man of the house?  Cause I will never forget that horrible phone call.  That young man refused to talk with me, a woman, about my own business because I’m a woman and he didn’t feel comfortable talking business with a woman.  I lost my shit with him big time and my “friend” completely defended his behavior calling him “old fashioned”.  We ceased to be friends that day.  Maybe that’s rash of me but if being friends with someone means having to be exposed to such ass-holery then I won’t do it.  She married him and lived happily ever after and I’m happy for her because she’s a good person.  You know what’s stupid though?  That house took two years to foreclose.  Those two people could have lived in a nice house for two years without paying any rent.  Too bad they were too angry with us for being financially ruined and making them move to realize we were trying to give them something to make things easier for them.  There’s a lesson in there somewhere.
  • So recently I heard a young person mention an incident involving the night and a black person being stupid for doing something at night because his skin is so dark.  Apparently only white people can get away with doing stupid stuff at night.  Racism in young people is alive and well!
  • Here, just like on Fox News, being a democrat is the same as being a socialist.  I was called a socialist by a Libertarian welder.  While he was not complimenting me, I thank him for helping me to realize that the form of democracy I believe in really IS socialism.  The Nordic Model, as I’ve mentioned before.  And I DO take it as a compliment.
  • One time I lost “something”**** that belonged to a friend.  That friend called me up and yelled at me and was pretty much freaking the fuck out as though I’d actually stolen said “thing” and sold it to the pawn shop for a dollar.  I apologized harder than I’ve ever apologized before and explained that I didn’t mean to “lose” this “thing” of hers and pretty much didn’t even realize it was in my possession to lose in the first place.  She was having none of it.  She said “If  _______ doesn’t turn up I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at your face again!”  Said thing did turn up again but we happily demoted each other from “friend” to “acquaintance” status from that day forward.  I admit that I’m still hurt at her reaction to something that was a genuine mistake that righted itself.  It was, however, very revealing of her character.
  • But that just reminds me of the other friendship I lost because I was tired of having my choice to send my child to public school be bashed.  Yeah, this is a different home schooler than the one mentioned above.  This one called my son cruel for making one of her girls cry and even her husband said she was way off the mark by calling him “cruel” and admitted he’d made a lot of girls cry when he was a kid and it’s called “being a boy”.  That’s what he said to me though I doubt he said that to his own wife.  This is the home schooling friend who said that sending kids to public school is abusing them, and she also believes being gay is a sin because of the bible.  The writing was on the wall very early on but I was lonely and she liked homesteading activities like I do.
  • The fallout from the above story is that another mutual friend unfriended me in solidarity.  We have since remained chilly acquaintances.  That wasn’t exactly surprising and honestly I was going to unfriend her if she didn’t do it first because I had had enough of seeing her and other mutual acquaintances exclude me from their circles out loud and in my face.  I felt much better when it was clear that we were really definitely NOT friends.  Pretending takes way too much effort.
  • Then there was the quietly religious acquaintance who cheated on her husband and then, I guess because he forgave her, she became obnoxiously loudly religious peppering every conversation with “hallelujah”s and “Thank you Jesus”s and Jesus this and Jesus that and the lord does this and that and the other thing until you’re so fucking blue in the face you know you’re going to die and Jesus isn’t going to save you because he’s too busy trying to get people to stop thanking him every two fucking seconds for shit he didn’t do.  Amen.
  • Max had a friend for a little while whose mom was really his young grandma who had all her teeth removed and fake ones put in because I suppose it was easier than getting the rot fixed.  She is one of those leathery women who have lived and partied hard and looks it.  So one day she tells me her daughter (a drug addict who keeps sending her children to their grandma to raise) is in surgery and I told her I hoped the surgery would go well.  She says “Well, I trust in the lord because he’s the real surgeon.”  ????
  • So the owner of Third Street books doesn’t like me and said shit to a mutual friend about me.  Shit that makes no sense.  I’ve never done anything but support her bookstore and what she said makes it sound like I’m a very untrustworthy person.  What the hell did I ever do to her?  I knew she didn’t like me but until I heard that I didn’t realize she actually saw me as a bad person.  I have tried hard not to buy anything from her store since but there have been a couple of gift emergencies.
  • At the downtown grocery store (often referred to as the “health food store” for lack of a more appropriate title) I met a person who didn’t know what eggplants are.  I also met a person who didn’t recognize basil when she saw it.  The eggplants I can maybe understand if I really really tried to imagine a world where people never learn what an eggplant looks like but to not recognize basil is unimaginable.  It is one of the most ubiquitous herbs in use in the United States.
  • Got stuck in a scary rickety van once for over a half and hour listening to two very conservative republicans tell me all about how much they LOVE Rush Limbaugh and even wrote a limerick to him about how he needs to stop dating that liberal chick he was dating and apparently they managed to get Rush to read it on his show.  I’ve never been tempted to jump out of a moving vehicle in my life until that moment.  Instead I interrupted them to announce that I’m a liberal democrat because it seems they mistook me for one of their own.  The older one broke out in laughter and said “Oh yeah, we’ve got a couple of liberals in our family.”  Like we’re lepers or clowns or something.
  • It still amazes me that my own kid got bullied in grade school by Christian kids because he doesn’t believe in God.  Know how to convert an atheist to the ways of God?  I don’t know but I know you can’t do it by BULLYING.  And haven’t you heard of that guy named Jesus who was totally against violence and mean behaviors?
  • I was hanging out in the lobby of the Kung Fu school I went to for two years and had to listen to a conversation between my Kung Fu teacher and the mom of some kid attending the school.  She was talking about all those people out there with “depression” who are popping pills because they’re too lazy to get off their asses and get a little exercise and eat better food.  My kung fu teacher could not have agreed with her more and they went on to say how people don’t really have “depression” and dissed everyone taking pills.  He knows I am a mentally ill person who takes medication.  How are people here so thoughtless of those around them and so fucking self righteous and ignorant?  I eventually quit the school because I was tired of paying more money than I could afford to be continually insulted and bludgeoned over the head about my choice to send my kid to public school, the fact that I take medications so I WON’T KILL MYSELF, and hearing Obama and all of government accused of unremitting EVIL.  It was so unhealthy for me to be exposed to so much hate and bashing and I took Max out of the school too because he was having huge anxiety issues every day that he had to go to Kung Fu class.  The severity of those problems cleared up almost immediately when he stopped going.
  • One time I was riding my bicycle and some teens shouted “Sexy” derisively from their car.  I know I’m fat and pretty ugly these days but that was just mean.
  • I’d like to say the yelling has been from teens only and only once but the truth is that I have been yelled at from passing cars in this town whether I’m walking, riding my bicycle, or riding my scooter more times than I can count on my two hands and it has been from adults more than from teens.  WTFF?!  I guess you can’t teach your teens manners if you don’t have any yourself.  I haven’t been yelled at from passing cars since I was a death rocker teen.

What I want to know is how I can meet so many people in one small town who have so little respect for the feelings and beliefs of other people around them?  I disagree with so many people’s beliefs that I’ve met here but I have endeavored not to shit on their choices, to listen to what they have to say and consider it.  Even if you know you’re not going to change your mind – don’t other people deserve a little space to make their own choices about things and to disagree with you?  Yes, it can be hard to do, but never more so when that respect and space is not mutual.  Not everyone in McMinnville is this way, not everyone here has guns or is conservative or religious.  Not everyone here is mean or ignorant or racist.  But unfortunately I was not welcomed into the inner circles of the more liberal crowd.  I just didn’t fit in with anyone but the recluses and the outsiders and most of them moved away because THEY HATED IT HERE.

The few who have let me into their lives and LIKED me and wish I wasn’t moving are the only reason I stayed as long as I did and hoped endlessly to see the lighter side of McMinnvillains.  And to those few good friends I am deeply thankful because they made it possible for me to deal with all the above stories without going postal.  Those good friends here gave me a safe haven where I could be myself and not be bashed for it.

Now I have collected all the stories in one place that have been burning holes in my heart and head – let them burn to the ground and become something better.  I don’t know if I brought anything good to this town but I know that  living here in an environment that is so hostile to my beliefs has made me a better person in ways I didn’t know I needed to improve.  I was shown my own darker side and have been forced to address it.

How weak my religious tolerance was before I moved here!  It’s so easy to be open minded when your mind isn’t challenged to remain open by people who believe differently than you and are loud about it.  Now every time I am chafed by some religious person’s fervor and want to scream I remind myself how many religious people there are out there who are open minded enough to not care that I’m an atheist.

For every home schooling parent out there who thinks sending my child to public school is proof that I don’t love him enough there’s a home schooling parent who respects that our kids are all different and no educational choice is right for everyone.

I used to say I wasn’t much of a feminist.  I mean, I have never seen the world from the man-versus-woman perspective.  We’re in it together and I have been lucky enough to know mostly awesome men who see the women in their lives as equals and, where appropriate, partners.  Before I moved here I thought most chauvinism was only in the 50 year old and older crowd.  Encountering my first ever young chauvinist and being in a situation where I was refused as an equal I discovered, to my surprise, that I’m a raging feminist.  I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve actually had a screaming match with another adult.   I don’t scream at adults when I’m angry.  Unless they are refusing to discuss my own business with me because I’m a woman, apparently that wakes the beast.  I’m not proud that I screamed at this man but it did show me that I am as much of a feminist as I need to be depending on how I’m being treated.  And now that a whole set of politicians and their fans are attacking women’s rights all over again – I’ve never been more ready to fight this stupid shit.

Time to light a match to this pyre full of ugly.  Excuse me while I go look for some matches.

*If you recognize yourself in any of these stories and become flaming mad – I can’t help that.  I can’t undo your behaviors or change our interactions.  I can only go forward and to do that I have to let go and to let go I have to express my own anger and hurt.  If you need to “unfriend” me on facebook (if you haven’t already) I won’t mind at all.  That’s your dealio.  If you decide to retaliate by saying more mean and disrespectful shit about me to other people you will only be dirtying yourself.  Whatever you do, don’t bother talking to me personally about any of this because the time for that is past.  If I was mutually hurtful in our exchanges (as I definitely was in two instances for which I was genuinely ashamed of myself) I have already apologized to you for my unnecessary meanness.  Ask yourself this: have you apologized to me?  (Here’s a hint: the answer is NO.)  The end.

**Seriously?  I couldn’t look more white even if I wanted to.  Someone maybe needs stronger glasses?

***The real kind, not the fake Oregon kind.

****The details are being smudged in hopes that I don’t start a war with this story.  But it really hurt me and bothered me so much I had to put it on the fire with the rest of these stories.

10 Things I Love About Yamhill County

Poor Max.  He can’t take his parents anywhere without them taking pictures of things like the ground.  Easter afternoon, Grand Island.

I’m feeling charitable this morning in spite of not having had any alcohol in six days and not sleeping much.  I would like to take this moment to list the things I have actually loved about living in Yamhill County.  These are the things that have actually gotten me through all the dark times here in McMinnville.

  1. The weather.  Yes!  I love the cooler wet climate here.  It is my number one favorite thing about Yamhill County and all of Oregon.  It’s not good for me in that it keeps me from getting outside as much as I need to for exercise (I loathe squishy wet shoes) but it’s very good for me emotionally.  4 out of 6 summers here were almost comfortable-ish.  I love that it does sometimes snow and I love the frequent long string of drizzly days.
  2. The sound of snow tires on the road.  A symbol of the possibility of snow.  It also amuses me because people here apparently don’t know about tire chains.  They trust in snow tires and then when it really does snow they still go sliding and crawling down the road like frightened kittens trying to get across a frozen lake.  Such a happy distinctive sound they make.
  3. The u-pick farms.  They are such a boon to canners.  Sonoma County doesn’t have many/any.  There are many n Yamhill County and the Willamette Valley and I’m not the only one who picks at them.  I absolutely love that so many people do tons of preserving and that they use the local farms as their main resource.  I also love that the u-pick prices are so affordable.  Picking food at farms and canning has been one of my favorite Oregon adventures.
  4. The peonies.  Peonies do not reliably come back every year in California.  But in northern Oregon they are reliable, huge, and breathtaking!  I have three favorites: Festiva Maxima, Sarah Bernhardt, and that deep fuscia one we had at our first house whose name I never discovered.
  5. The berries.  Especially the blueberries.  I’ve never had such delicious and cheap blueberries in my life!  The strawberries are amazing too (yes, better than Californian ones) and I love how much easier they are to grow (for me).  The blackberries!  All the berries that grow in the Willamette Valley deserve exclamation points.
  6. The foraging.  Elderberries and nettles are abundant in the woods and I don’t know where to find them in CA.  That will be a fresh adventure.  The Oregon woods are so beautiful and smell amazing.  Foraging is one of my favorite ways to enjoy it.
  7. Lilacs.  Lilacs don’t do as well in CA but they thrive here and are widely planted and make a huge show of themselves in early spring.  It’s wonderful to smell them in the air on sunny spring days and they brighten up the landscape on grey ones.  I love them all.  As long as they have fragrance, I love them.
  8. The frogs in my yard!!  I am going to miss that wonderful loud society of frogs that have settled and multiplied in my tiny creepy pond and who are so funny and charming and drown out human voices with their volume.  Pacific tree frogs.
  9. Piontek bread.  Best sandwich bread I’ve ever had in my life.  Even better than I’ve ever been able to make myself.  (Sandwich bread is, for me, kind of tricky)  All other bread is inferior to home made but this one.  No preservatives.  No crap.  It’s the only bread Max likes.  Whole wheat.  Perfect size.  Perfect texture.  Perfect sandwich bread.
  10. Cauliflowers and cabbages the size of my head.

Now that I look at the list I can see that most of what I like about Yamhill County is the weather, the flora, and the fauna.

What I keep wanting to say is that the best thing about Yamhill County is Portland.*

*Not in Yamhill County.

A Fresh Oxymoron: Fat Middle-Aged Hipster

I’ve heard a lot of opinions about Portland being thrown around.  But the majority opinion is that Portlanders are smug, snobby, unfriendly, and obsessed with their own scenes.  It’s a city filled with hipsters and some people I know purposefully avoid hanging out in the areas most frequented by them.

I have such a different take on Portland and the hipster crowd.  I have been met with friendliness by most of the people I’ve interacted with in Portland.  It’s a much friendlier city to me than San Francisco, a city I still love.  Way more friendly than anywhere in Marin County or in the East Bay.  They’re certainly friendlier to me than the people in McMinnville.  While I have heard them described as being snobby I don’t see it.

I think there’s plenty to laugh about when a city is full of young people who take their scenes and ideals really seriously and I feel free to make fun of hipsters the way people felt free to make fun of me when I was a young (obviously super cool) fashion designer in San Francisco running around in my 1950’s bathing suit and a man’s silk smoking robe.  However, after almost 6 years living in a blue collar town full of conservative non-hipster people who dress like there’s nothing to hope for and no one to impress, I love nothing more than to go to downtown Portland or to 23 rd Street and hang out.  I feel comfortable where the young fashionable people are bustling around.  There is no better place to enjoy such people than at Powell’s Books.

I just realized yesterday that that’s because I’m one of them.  Right, I know, you’re seeing a fat middle aged woman who dresses like there’s no one to impress and nothing to hope for.  And you’re right, I’ve been worn down and out and I dress with only one objective now and that’s to not stand out too much so people won’t feel so inclined to notice my rotundity.  But this isn’t who I really am.  If I wasn’t fat I would wear such different clothes than anyone’s seen me in in years and you would understand how I feel so at home with all those “too cool for themselves” people with their interesting fashion and their piercings and their tattoos and their interest in sustainable living and eating locally and organically and doing everything themselves, and bicycling to work.

How did having ideals and fun with fashion and having a vision of the world you want to live in become equivalent to being smug?  If so, then I’m smug too.  I suppose people have accused me of that behind my back.  That’s alright.  I’ve been called worse things than that before that weren’t true either.

If I were to ever move to Portland I would either move to my mom’s old neighborhood near 23rd street (a walk to TJ’s and Powell’s and the public library) or I’d live around the Alberta area where all the interesting looking people run around.  Because if I ever get out of this godforsaken town I’m not going to ever live in another place where people are dreary and just fine with the status-quo and where going to the grocery store with all five of your kids in your pyjama flannels is considered de rigueur.

I love Portland.  I LOVE IT.  I love the energy there, the people, and it’s the cleanest city I’ve ever walked.  I love the fashion and the stores (which I don’t shop in because I can’t afford to but I still love to look at them) and the buildings.  I love the Lucky Lab and The Kennedy School and I love the farmer’s markets.  I love the fact that I see Vespas and other scooters all over Portland streets.  I love that every neighborhood has at least 2 dog parks.  I love that the city is overwhelmingly politically liberal, that people are having new ideas and living what they preach.

Here in McMinnville it’s all about the huge trucks, good ol’ minivans to tote around your huge family in, hunting, praying, going to church events, caring for your lawns by soaking the ground in poison, and dreaming of job promotions at Safeway.  No, not all McMinnvillains are like this.  There are some cool people here who are passionate about sustainable living and buying local and trading out the gas guzzling vehicles for small fuel efficient cars and there are definitely a few people ripping out there lawns to grow food and some of them are also passionate about doing it organically, but that’s just a very small proportion of this town’s people.

In thinking about how people have different views of cities I have to admit that quite a few people I’ve talked to here disagree with me about McMinnville.  They see it as a liberal town with lots of cool people in it who aren’t bible thumpers.  So I know we’re seeing from different perspectives and we’re all judging based on our relative experiences of other places we’ve lived too.  I came up from California, from one of the most liberal areas in that state so my idea of liberal is going to be different than someone who’s always lived in more conservative places.  I also had a kinder view of this town when I had more close friends who I really understood – who were so much like us and felt like family.  It made this town’s darker side more amusing but they’ve moved away and it’s definitely stripped away my comfort and my ability to find amusement in brass testicles hanging from two story trucks.

So when I go to Portland I want to go where there’s color and life and people dressing up and having fun and being into their scenes.  Hanging out in Powell’s Books is like going to the hipster’s church and it’s also mine.  Going there reminds me that there are still cool people out there in the world, outside of my weird-ass little community.  Maybe I’m not so cool now but that doesn’t bother me.  I want the energy of the young idealists around me.  I think it’s pretty great that my mom loves the same areas of Portland and for the same reasons.  That’s why she chose to live in the 23rd street neighborhood which gave me somewhere to explore from.

Sometimes you have to make dreadful mistakes and wrong turns in life to find out what will kill you inside, to find out just how far outside of your comfort zone you can live.  I love my house and my garden here.  I have made some connections with good people here and I have some acquaintances slowly becoming friends and I have my two really close friends who haven’t moved away yet (though I don’t see either of them more than once a month usually which is not so great) so it isn’t as if I hate everything and everyone in this town.

But I’ve never had such a non-stop run with depression as I have since moving here.  That’s the bald truth.  I’ve been broke as shit in San Francisco and was much happier in general.  As a person with clinical depression I’ve never been free of the cycles of depression but when I’m happy with where I am and with my life in general the depression is an actual cycle that fluctuates giving me breathers between bouts.  I have recently realized that I’ve been solidly depressed for the past six years.  I have worked so hard against it.  Some things have improved and some things have worsened.

I think this town is slowly killing me inside.

That’s the thought that’s been rudely shouting itself out in my head all week.  A thought I’ve been suppressing for a long time, not allowing myself to say it, to think it, or to believe it.  It finally found voice and it won’t shut up.

But this is where I live.

This is where Philip has work and we have a house.

So here we are.

The Neptune Society Really Wants Your Business

I think modern medicine, which can now keep people alive pretty much indefinitely, has caused a serious decline in the cremation business.  I suspect this because my mom got a post card in the mail from them and decided to find out how much it would cost to get herself cremated.  However, she gave them my phone number by accident, so they called me.

Sadly, they actually got Max on the phone.  Max does not have polite phone manners.  (Not for lack of efforts on my part to improve them)  So Max, having gotten a stranger on the phone, grilled the guy and rudely told him he’d got the wrong number.  So I grabbed the phone from the kid and tried to sort things out.  Which wasn’t easy, actually.  First of all, I thought the guy must be calling from Santa Rosa which is the only place I’ve seen the Neptune Society before.  I didn’t realize all crematoriums are called The Neptune Society.  Naturally I was suspicious of the pink crematorium in Santa Rosa calling my mother.  Had someone died that I wasn’t aware of?  All the guy wanted was to talk to my mom.  I told him he had the wrong number but that she lives downstairs and I would give her a message that he called and give him her actual phone number.

All squared.  You’d think.  My mother, apparently, though curious to find out how much we’ll be set back when it comes time to burn her, wasn’t curious enough to want to actually talk to them.  So when he called her, she just let him leave messages.  Apparently, he’s been trying to get hold of her for over a week and was tired of getting the grand brush-off.

Cause this morning he showed up at my door with no appointment or invitation.  If you’ve been to my house or seen pictures of our curious set-up, you’d know that to get to our front door you have to enter the metal ghetto gate behind which there lives a dog with serious teeth.  Most sane people who don’t know us or our dog hear Chick’s crazed barking and see her gnashing large teeth dripping with eager saliva and they will not enter the ghetto gate unless I come and get them and escort them in.  A person who is invited through the gate is an instant object of love and fascination for Chick but a person who is uninvited and unknown is lunch-meat.  What kind of person ignores the scary black angry dog and just stands there at a door with no doorbell at a house they weren’t invited to and whose residents haven’t answered his calls for a week?  A dumb-ass.

I got Chick into the house because even as I stumbled onto the porch in my gorgeous pyjamas she made a lunge for the Neptune guy’s leg.  It is very fortunate for us and possible future legal issues that she did not actually bite him.  I turned to the guy and I said it was not very smart to enter a gate to a house where a dog is showing clear signs of wanting to attack you.  He defended this assitude by explaining that there didn’t seem to be any other way to get in.  I confirmed this.  I told him that people who aren’t invited to our house never come in the gate.  I realize this was a surly way to treat him but after staying up late last night and trying to sleep in I was not happy to be woken at 9:30 in the morning by a man who just couldn’t wait to tell my mom how much it will cost to get herself cremated.

It actually took me a minute to sort out who he was and why he was there on my porch not noticing the attack dog lunging at him.  He was there to see my mom.  I asked him if he had an appointment with her.  He said no, because he’s been calling and calling and she never returns his calls so he came to talk to her in person.  Most people who try to call other people and never get a response take it as a sign that the person they’re trying to reach isn’t all that into being reached and will give up.  What business sends a henchman to make home calls when potential customers decide not to return your calls?

The Neptune Society does.

My mom, who was also sleeping (she is often sleeping at that time because she wakes up at ungodly hours of the morning unable to go back to sleep, sleep issues run family-wide here) and she told me to tell him to go away.  So I had the happy job of telling the idiot that next time he should not make house calls without appointments.  He kept waving a piece of paper at me in explanation and saying “but she wouldn’t answer my calls”.  Take a hint, dude, take a big hint and run with it.  No one wants uninvited house calls from the crematorium.  No one wants to know what it’s going to cost to be crisped THAT URGENTLY.  Just assume that if a potential customer doesn’t return your calls, they aren’t motivated to give you any business.  It’s a big clue.

If, or rather – when, we need to cremate someone, you can be sure we’ll follow through with our calls.  Now I’m wondering if there are any crematoriums other than the Neptune Society?  I’m not keen to be toasted by dumb-asses.

Today’s major task: buy a “beware of dog” sign for the ghetto gate.

So that’s my morning, how’s yours?

A Reconstruction of Events: The Apartment Fire

At 6:20pm on Tuesday the 18th of October, Max and I took Chick for a walk.  We cut through the apartment building complex parking lot off of 27th street (around the corner and visible from our house) to walk through the Rite Aid parking lot.  Max’s choice route.  We were talking about a Harry Potter Minecraft mod that Max thinks someone should create.

At the same time, two little girls were setting fire to toilet paper on their bed using a lighter.

At 6:30pm Max and I had circled around to the parking lot again, still talking about what cool Harry Potter items should be included in the imaginary Minecraft mod.  Just as we both said (simultaneously) “Dragons!” a tiny chihuahua made a big fuss over Chick from behind the chain-link of the apartment buildings to our right.  Chick whined pathetically to be allowed to play (or eat) the tiny chihuahua but we kept walking.  Just as we passed the next block of the apartment building we noticed thick black smoke pouring like acrid deadly vaporous water from the end ground-floor unit.  We stopped in our tracks.  Completely stunned.

Then we heard the windows of the apartment explode and a giant wall of flames shot up towards the second story.  I think we watched it for about two stunned seconds and then took the few steps to reach the sidewalk where a woman was shouting hysterically.  We asked urgently if everyone was outside.  She said both her kids got out safely but she was wailing that two of her pets, a rat and a weasel, were still inside.  I asked if she had already called 911.  Other neighbors were beginning to gather.  We heard sirens in the distance.  She was holding a small animal to her chest yelling about the animals left inside.

Max shrugged, looked up at me and said “Well?  Should I go in and get them?”  I looked at the front door of the apartment where black smoke was pouring out and I don’t know what I was thinking, I looked at how low it was to the ground in the apartment, as though considering Max’s request, and said “No, it’s much too dangerous.”  I would never have let him go in there.  It was curious to even be contemplating the logistics.  He asked me why he couldn’t go in, he may have said something about the fire being at the back of the apartment.  I told him that he didn’t know where the animals were and just breathing that smoke could kill him really fast.

We asked if there was anything we could do but the lady was just freaking out, the fire department had arrived.  We walked home.  Which took two secconds.  We made wishes for the trapped animals.  We felt very grave.

I got an idea.  Her little animal, whatever it was (I think it was a guinea pig) would eventually have to be set down.  We know what it’s like to have your house on fire.  You can’t stand around all night holding your pets.  You need a place to keep them safe.  We have pet carriers and I asked Max if he would come with me to bring them one of our pet carriers.  We grabbed Ozark’s carrier and ran back to the scene around the corner, which was now completely chaotic with neighbors watching and firemen filling hoses and cutting traffic off.  We headed for the woman with her pet and asked her if she could use the carrier for her pet.  We just wanted to help, we explained.  She waved wildly, she spoke incoherently, as one tends to do when fire is destroying your home, and eventually let us understand that her girls had their little dog over there (hazy waving in general other direction) and the dog was much more likely to need the carrier.

So we located the two little girls and then everything got surreal.

A drunk neighbor woman was attempting to soothe the scared crying girls.  She slurred and spoke somewhat wildly.  No one seemed to understand why we brought the carrier.  We kept trying to explain and then none of the adults would answer us, they kept asking us to repeat what we were doing and why we had the carrier.  It seemed they spoke a different language.  The drunk kept asking me where we lived and made a bizarre request for me to leave my name and phone number.  I got the feeling she wanted me to give them money later.  I explained that I was in no position to make “donations” to other people and once again explained that we were just trying to help out with the pets.  She continued to insist on me going into her apartment to leave my vital information.  The two other adults standing around (apparently not drunk) were completely unhelpful until at last the drunk insisted I follow the tattooed latino man named John into the apartment.  I was definitely not going to do that.

I picked up the case and said that if they didn’t need the carrier, that was fine and we made to leave.  Finally the other woman said “No, please, we can use that later” and so I stood back up.  Max asked what he could do.  He even told the two girls that he knew what they were going through because we’d been through it too.  When I made to leave Max asked me if he should stay with them.

As though I would leave him in such a situation!

The man named John followed me towards the sidewalk and told me not to mind the lady, that she was just really “emotional”.  No names and addresses required.  He then launched into paranoid speech about how no one had a right to ask questions about that fire.  In my head I felt that shrinking resignation that I always feel when listening to paranoid people, of which there are a lot in this little town, talk about what is and isn’t anyone’s business (nothing is anyone’s business, ever, obviously).  It makes me so tired and sad.

I don’t know what provoked it but at some point I patted the tattooed paranoid muscled stranger on the back and told him not to worry.  Later I wondered at my uncharacteristic behavior.  I never pat strange men on the back.  Ever.

Max and I walked home with the same sense of gravity and worry over the animals we worried would still be in the fire.

A sudden awful splitting headache tore my brain to pieces.

The emergency lights flashed through our windows for two hours.

Then I remembered that my son had seriously offered to go into a burning building to save a rat and a weasel.  I realized that I had to explain to him why he couldn’t do it because I knew he would do it if I didn’t give him a concrete and definite reason not to.  Just like the time when he was three and he didn’t want to hold my hand crossing the street.  He asked me why he had to do it.  I told him “Because it’s dangerous” and he kept asking “But what would happen?” and no answer I gave was enough reason for him to obey.  He wanted the truth.  Nothing less would do.  I didn’t want to tell my three year old that if he crossed the street by himself he could be hit and killed by a car.  I wouldn’t say it.

So he said “Is it because I’d be smooshed by a car?”  That told me a lot about my son.

The fact that my son’s first instinct on assessing the whole situation was to save the animals at his own risk, that if I’d said “Yes!  Let’s go get them!” he would have been game to rush into a burning building for those pets, that tells me almost all I need to know about the person I’m raising.  I am very proud of his instincts and the calm way he spoke with everyone and the way he so freely offered his help.

And that when I spoke of the incoherency of the drunk woman he pointed out that she was a very nice lady.  He’s right, it is more important that the lady was a kind neighbor to those frightened girls than that she had obviously been drunk before the fire even started.*  I agreed with him, she was a very kind soul.

Postscript:

I read the report of the fire and have since found out that ALL  the animals were rescued and that the fire was caused by the two little girls (ages 5 and 7) burning toilet paper on their bed using a lighter.

*It was not just the incoherency of her speech but the smell of old and fresh alcohol rising from her skin that tipped me off, if you’re at all curious.

Come Hear My Talk at the McMinnville Library!

No, this is not all you get to eat on the local eating challenge.  You can also eat tomatoes.

I’ll be talking about eating locally.  I’ll give you some tips to make it easier and reassure you that eating locally doesn’t make you into an arrogant asshole.  I will even have a power-point presentation.  (Provided I can learn power-point in two days.)

 

Thursday, July 28th

7 pm in the Carnegie Room

McMinnville Public Library


Slow Foods Yamhill County is challenging its members to do a 2 week 100 mile diet challenge and I’m going to speak to them about my own experience doing the 100 mile diet for 10 months.  I’m going to discuss my reasons for doing it, how I set my challenge up, what I learned and kept from the experience, and give some tips on finding out where things are grown.  I will endeavor to refrain from passing out.  I will also do my best not to throw up.  (Have I mentioned recently my extreme – very common- phobia of public speaking?)

So if you’re local – come join me!

If you’re not local but you’re interested in the topic you can hop over to my food blog and read all about it in these posts:

Food Philosophy: Eating Local

Eat Local Challenge: Setting Your Perimeters and Goals

8 Benefits of Eating Locally