Evolution

I didn't realize people change so much in a lifetime. Is that what keeps people from becoming bored looking at the same person in the mirror for 90 years?

Minimalist

When did I start accumulating all this stuff? I have begun to think about moving: to a cheaper apartment, to Maryland, or to a new month. I sat in the bathroom this morning and realized I have nine liters of shampoo and conditioner. I have been working on these for quite a while, but then there is a new sale.
Flashback to the trailer in Springfield, Oregon and Dad has just brought home about 30 new boxes of cereal. The Grocery Warehouse is his opiate. He buys cereal I've never heard of with vaguely familiar names. There are Apple Jumps, Fruit Hoops, and Happy-O's. There are boxes and boxes of corn flakes and puffed rice cereals, his favorites. But along with all that cereal, I very distinctly remember the first time I found mealy worm type creatures in the bottom of the box. I quit eating cereal. Dad continued to buy more, figuring the odds of finding bugs still made these boxes a bargain.
When did I start becoming so attached to things? In the past year I have been trying to break this cycle and move towards minimalist living. I'm not even close to the goal, but the contributions I've made this year of clothing, shoes, and bedding would fill a pickup truck. It's a start. I've got another truck full downstairs waiting for the charity to pick it up. I imagine a happy, simple life with the mattress on the floor and a chair and lamp. I don't know why that sounds so good right now.
The truth is, really, I'm tired of taking care of things. All these things. I'm tired of moving them, taking them out of closets, looking at them, and putting them back. They are not sentimental mementos. They are things I know I will need, use, and have to buy someday. But it has become my opiate. I miss the stuff that is downstairs waiting to be hauled away. I will need it someday. I remembered a knitting book down there when a friend talked to me today about how to finish off a scarf. I knew I would need it and I almost gave it away.
If I step into minimal, I can let go of all this needing. I can be free from the pull this stuff has on me. Who is it that said all the things we own are like pieces in a Monopoly game? When our life is over, all the pieces go back in the boxes.
Anyone want some things? I'll unload them cheap, real cheap.

Rice pudding

My friends told me tonight that I could never live in a commune because no one would ever eat my food. Testament to that statement is my experiment last night with rice pudding. My mom made it a couple of weeks ago and it sounded good. I didn't actually think of rice pudding until I had already cooked a big batch of brown rice. Now, I don't know if I'm the only person who has ever made rice pudding with brown rice, but I think I might be. It also might be a safe bet that the brown rice combined with soy milk with vanilla has only been attempted by destitute individuals.
The gray/brown milky substance looked like grains of wheat immersed in a mud puddle. I stirred and stirred for 40 minutes and it only got uglier. Finally, I dished my concoction into custard cups.
I opened the fridge tonight and remembered my dessert. I chewed my rice pudding and wondered why brown rice is tougher than white rice. I also don't know if the soy milk producers envisioned pudding as the final product. It tasted pretty good by my standards. On the other hand, it probably won't be a commune fav.

Swimming in Flax Seed

With the advent of this lovely inherited *thanks Grams* gluten intolerance, I have begun to get in touch with my earthy side, aka earth muffin, hippie, tree hugger, radical.
Years ago, probably 25, I used to think my dear sister Orly was not off her rocker, but maybe tilting close to the edge. First, she began this off the wall practice of shopping for organic items. This was simply not done in our small town. Then before you knew it she started visiting a witch doctor, aka Health Food Store. She would bring home the strangest things like raw sugar, honey, and whole wheat flour. She began sprinkling wheat germ on her muffins, she bought "natural" yogurt and flavored her own. These were strange times at her kitchen counter. Everything that we'd grown up with was bleached, processed, and pasteurized. The whole thing had an eerie feel to it. What were the long-term consequences of eating this stuff? Granted, in the beginning, she didn't quite have the feel for how to manipulate recipes and ingredients and some of the stuff, to my delight, was just downright yucky!
Who would have thought, looking back, that she was about 10-15 years ahead of her time. Had we purchased Whole Foods, or Nature's Grocers shares back then, we'd be swimming in flax seed all the way to the bank!
A little late, but I finally began to care about what I put in my body - and how the packaging, processing, and product affects the environment. My cupboard is now full of 11 different flours, three kinds of raw honey, raw sugars, natural flavors, organic spices, and a conglomerate of healthy snacks. My favorite are the beet chips.
I do feel healthier now then when I used to eat Big Mac's (minus the meat patties) two or three at a time, downed with Diet Coke and salty fries. Much like Orly felt back then, I would like to convert the few remaining souls who still eat $1.19 mass produced white bread. I want to show them the multi grain benefits of healthier offerings. I want to show them that cola's have no nutritional value at all.
I've thought of opening a restaurant many times. I would love to have a little cafe similar to one I've visited in Breckenridge and Gunnison. It would have healthy offerings, and most importantly, it could provide tasteful dishes without gluten, processed, or bleached foods. I don't think the restaurant will ever happen, so I'll just continue to create receipes for friends and family.
I wish I would've listened to Orly back then and not feared the unknown. I did learn one of the important lessons we all need to tackle though. Traditions are meant to be improved upon. I guess I'll listen to my sister more when I see her next. I could've been swimming in flax seed.

Gypsy moments

I think I am connected to my grandfather on days like this. He was a wanderer and world traveler at such an early age. He evidently had no fear of the unknown, or he desperately didn't have anything to lose by hopping a freighter to China.
I somehow found it compelling during my 10 days of flu to post a resume, gather my transcripts, and apply for a job with the Secret Service.
Now, I can hear the ringing of the phone and me scampering to Maryland to report for duty. My only qualm? I called my son to find out how hard it is to get top secret clearance.
I also hear the ringing in my ears, which is my mom saying, "Why would you want to do that?"
I think if my mom pondered long enough, she would remember the days long ago when I converted an empty refrigerator cardboard box into the office for my detective agency. Yes, I was the next Nancy Drew.
All wanderings considered, two years seems to be my threshold. Three years wears on me. I think Maryland would be beautiful this time of year. I would love to wander a few more times before age takes its toll.
Exploring is the adrenaline I live by now that I don't have children to raise.