pom

Jake took me to the nettle patch today.
My coat hold only one button, the one at the top
My coat flapped open
like cape
as we rode our bikes along the river
as fast as we could

I can't tell you where the nettle is
I can tell you where the wolf berries are
in the alley near my house
There should be enough again
this summer
for you and me
if the bees are busy
and the neighbors don't prune them away

But the nettle is for Jake to share.

Riding,
I tell Jake I figured something out
Gazing at Rinnah last night
I got shy and looked away
and remembered
when it was
that when you kiss someone
you stop looking away
you feel like you're inside that person
and they are inside of you
The pact.

Jake tells me I have women medicine
and that I use my powers to help others

He says the nettle is male and female and mate every year
He says the root of the nettle feels masculine
He says the warriors would consume the nettle to strengthen their blood

We look around the brush.
There is a styrofoam container
some crushed Olympia cans
a bottle of Old German
which I put in my backpack

Jake finds the nettle
and we clear away a place in the thicket
to crouch down.
The nettle is going crazy in the valley
Not here
So much.

The tulips are blooming in the valley
The daffodils in my yard would bloom
on the week of my birthday
First week of March

I tell him every year I wish the winter
to be so treacherous
and miserable
I hope everything breaks and I cry everyday
Because when the summer comes it feels like ecstasy

It is why I bear the loneliness
And hold onto it sometimes

Jake says, when you touch the nettle it stings
and leaves welts
He says the Chinese use nettle in medicine
They lash the backs of elders with arthritis
and it relieves their joints

We touch the nettle to acupuncture points on our wrists
Within seconds the skin flares up
and stings

Maybe it's to make us stronger
Maybe it's to remind ourselves that pain is healing.

He picks a nettle for himself
He is going to use it in the sushi tonight for the family
He picks a nettle for me
He says I can make it into a tea

Bike crash comic

Bike, car
bike crash on something "wipe-out"
Car pulls over
"Hey!"
Right when you fell I was listening to .... and it said, "wipe out"
No way bra!
Way!
Hahahahah
Want a ride to the hospital?
Yeah, that'd be great!

Look at that fucking bone..

CSA

http://juniperjunglefarm.com/

22135 Erickson Road, out East

CSA program through MountainStar

2013 CSA Season

June 5^th through September 25^th + November 17^th = 18 weeks

The first day of pick up will be Tuesday, June at the farm or Wednesday, June 6^th at our arranged drop point(s), and every Wednesday thereafter. The last pick up day for summer will be September 26^th. There will be one last pick up day on Wednesday, November 17^th, with some fall goodies such as potatoes, onions, garlic, winter squash and cooking pumpkins just in time for the holidays. If the farm has produce available before June 6, we will send out an email with what is available and how you can purchase the produce. The same will happen in October until our season is done.

Weekly pick

Split as a group with staff

Costco prices for vegetables - research more

Strawberries : 19.96

Pepper: $18

Mango: $18

Watermelon: $13.50

feed 4-6 people week $40

$720 season 

The CSA would take care of two days of vegetable consumption. 

Majority of the products will be fresh greens

Fruit?

eggs
spinach
kale
chicken

lettuce

romaine

tomatoes

squash

cabbage

beets

Dishes that can include a variety of vegetables

Dumplings

Quiches

Pasta sauces (sauteed dishes that are over pasta)

Stir-fry

I often use the frozen "mixed vegetables" in a variety of ways. 

Children will be having fresh salads

Acting by April 1st will give a 5% discount

Questions needing addressed

What is the USDA feel about compensating for CSA?

Will there be enough food?

Is it worth the price?

Is it comparable to Costco?

Will it be annoying to have similar vegetables every time?

Also, using Tim & Jen's garden. Is it childcare nutrition approved? How to create a relationship with local growers...

joel2

Joel asked me out of the blue how periods work.
Joel is famous for asking girls or just internally assuming when they are emotional that they are on their periods. He's not being rude, he really doesn't understand ladies when they have emotions.

on the phone with hanna

I was waiting all night for you to call.

Developing a relationship with my grandma after she's dead. Because there's no such thing.

Perl dream interpretation

ship slippery slide loses feet loses shipness becomes hot metal against cold ice and it sits this very tip of athe peak of the moutain its been standing for some time conteplating taking its herbs and drinking irs contemplating what not to miss then it slowly goes over this little peak on the cold cold ice with lightening flashed no one sees the ligth sines and it strrams throighout the whole city, the city shits down and the city shts down for 22 hours shts down shuts does, does not move, does nto speak eerytjing is frozen except for this moement that is haooening over this peak and this thing is coing for you. this thing is coming for you. this thing is coming for something that is alive. everything is frozen the thing that it foing towards is virating towards that thing then they link

they together and that whens life starts again

James says there are a lot of constellation in Pisces and to not be so hard on myself.

you are like interpreting a dream
we are mirrors of each other both representing the sscred shrine

she took sdvatage of a migrating flock of birds

visits people in the night

Spaces

Ever since I was very young I've been in love with spaces.
Finding a birds nest puts me in wonder for long moments. Staring upward and getting into the mind of the birds.
In the blackberry bushes we used dad s rose clippers to hollow out spaces in the thorny vines, borrowing until the walls and ceilings were an impenetrable fortress of spikes and orb weaving spider webs.
Gary and I made a space under the stairs when I was sixteen. Moving suitcases and Mom's nostalgia boxes, behind coats and snow clothes we pulled in blankets and Christmas lights. A single electrical cord betrayed our secret until Gary burrowed a hole in the wall to the garage where we could hide without detection. We pulled in a tiny television and bought a cheap DVD player and I watched The Royal Tenebaums and Amelie, buring a thick fog of incense. Gary used the space to hide with friends.

I used to sleep in the closet. Dad shamed me but I did it anyway. I loved the spaces. The nooks. I once kissed a pretty girl and on my runs would find places under the boughs of thick trees and among Oregon grape I could take her and we could kiss more.
(image here)

Tree fort coffee table photo books interrupt my contribution to friendly banter.

With God

There is a language we can speak where we are not fighting. When we speak unambiguously and determined. Speak clearly and from our own truth.
"We are all little gods," Lana says as we are driving home.
Erica and I are frustrated with Mom and Dad for bringing up Jesus in ordinary conversation.
"I am so devastated by Lance Armstrong lying for so long.."
"Because he didn't have Jesus in his heart." Mom says.

We're in the desert. Looking over the gorge. Dad wants to talk about money. Mom tells me I should petition Jesus. I tell them I don't want to talk about money. Then I remember.

There was time, ten years old, I would go to church by myself. I would read the bible to my parents to try to get them to go. There was a time the priest lectured on why we should dress nice when we come to church.

I fantasized about going up to the pew, to the front, by the alter, and shouting,
"God doesn't care what I wear. God doesn't care how I look. God loves me the way that I am!"

I'm channeling Patti Smith now. "Who was ever hurt by how I dressed? I'm not hurting anyone!"

In my fantasy two old men stand up and pull my off the steps, (where women aren't allowed to stand anyway, papal doctrine decrees they stand on the lowest step) and I am shouting,
"Look at them God! They are taking me away! They are taking me out of your house!"

I'm telling this story to Mom and Dad.

I tell them, what God wants us to do is be as authentic to our true selves as possible. Because we are made by God we are divine creatues. God loves us how we are.

"God loves me when I dumpster dive. God loves me when I wear dirty clothes. God loves me when I yell at people for telling lies."

Dad asks me if I pray. I told him I prayed yesterday. I caught Humphrey in my hands and held him until he stopped vibrating with fear. His breathing slowed and I opened my hands and he stayed. We watched each other, studied one another for a long time thinking our thoughts with no words.
We were alive and breathing and it was amazing to witness one another.

Dad told me I should start my prayers with, "Dear Heavenly Father," and I told him, "I don't pray like that."

My God doesn't love in heaven. There is no heaven. When we die we die. What is God is the vibration within us. The pure most authentic parts of ourselves. It is the smiling Buddha and the mischievous Hanna. God is in my paint brush and

The conversation ends when you are telling me I'm wrong. Why are you telling me I'm wrong? I will not tell you you are wrong, even if my experience disagrees with you. There are moments we spend alone, when are in our heads, when we are connecting to the divine, how can I say this is not real to you? How can you tell me my moments are wrong?

My fight is not your fight but we are both fighting.