I'm packing for my trip to Bolinas, California to start a year-long Permaculture Design course at Regenerative Design Institute. I'm so excited to finally live a little piece of my dream! On my way there, I may go to a memorial service for Sonny Cresswell, Cress's dad who died last night. It's all the way up in Fort Ross area, so I just don't know if I can handle that much travel, but it's so close that I may just try. I'm staying in San Rafael.
I watched a lot of the live webcast from the Bioneers Conference last weekend, and I got new information, new links, new energy.

Pt Reyes Station. Yarn shop. farm. Garden. Little house with little in it. Writing in Cafes. Screenplay. Seeds left out and not hidden, where even I can't find them. dancing in the kitchen. the colorful quilt. kayaking. running. beloved cats. Francesca. Electric car. Solar powered. the house and the car. spinning wool from sheep. lavender. mint. chard. parsley. broccolli. Kale. Cheickens for eggs. Writing writing writing. Sometimes in cafes. love. beauty. truth.
hanging aroumd the spirit rock kitchen and learning to cook.
lovelove love. all you need is love.
going off to the bookstore and the palace market. Inverness. a hike on Mt. Tam.
what happened to my old manual typewriter. dying yarn in a wringer washer and squishing it out. water water water coming out of the sky. nourishing the plants and the ocmpost.
no rats.

My mirrors

The neighbor kids who come over and play all the time are being my mirrors lately. Their mom is a young blond Barbie-ish looking woman who is very serious minded and works fulltime making what I presume is a lot of money as a pharmacist. Last night when Francesca sang at the restaurant where Tim plays, they came and sat and watched. When the older girl saw Tim's tip jar, she asked me what my job was. I explained my job was mom and I didn't make any money at it. "Well no wonder Tim has to work so hard all the time!" she exclaimed. I just laughed. I really didn't want to have to explain myself to an eight year old, or say anything that could be interpreted as disapproving of my neighbor's job. Her job leaves her limited time with her kids, and sometimes she drops them off in our driveway on her way home from work so she can cook dinner while they play. I have sometimes resented the implication that I have the time and energy to take care of her kids for free. But I try to be neighborly, friendly, etc.
Today they showed up at the door, no surprise there. The two daughters ran into the backyard to jump on the trampoline, and while I helped sweep the leaves off so they could jump, the younger daughter told me I was old and the older one asked how old I was. "Older than your mom", I said ,and she persisted asking how old I was when I had Francesca.I finally told her I had her in my forties, and the younger one went on and on about how I was old and that she knew because of my gray hair. I'm kind of tired of my gray hair, and am seriously thinking of coloring it again. So I went in the house and thought over whether I should respond, and explain that I worked and traveled a lot before I had Francesca, and now I don't have a house payment or any debt whatsoever.
On the other hand, I spent time today lamenting how I can't do anything because of Tim. I need to resist this mindset. But I am very limited on scheduling anything for myself because everyone else's schedule takes precedance. I was about to talk to Tim about going to Karen Maezen Miller's zen retreat in Colorado next month, when Tim mentioned he might change his flight and not leave August 29th and come back SEptember 5th. Well, if he leaves later I have no coverage for Francesca if I go. This leaves me unable to definitely schedule anything, and by the time I know the fares will have gone up, and I'll get discouraged and give up, just like always. This happens over and over, to the point where I'm not even asked if something fits into my schedule. I have no schedule.

What I dream of: Point Reyes Station. The year-long permaculture design course at Regenerative Design Institute in Bolinas. The natural dying class there too, with Rebecca Burgess. Going to literary events at the Point Reyes Bookstore. Shopping at the Dharma Trading Company in San Rafael. Kayaking on Lake Tahoe from my own lakeside tiny solar powered cabin. Living off the grid in an alternative building like a yurt or a Tumbleweed Tiny House. Growing a vegetable garden. A certificate in Sustainable Practices from Dominican University. A career writing for magazines. Expert status.

First Day of School = Mom Freedom

I walked with the neighbors. I went to the Pilates class at the gym. I read a book about writing for magazines. I ate, mostly non-carbohydrate. I drank tea. I filled up my car gas tank. I deleted email. I did two loads of laundry. I almost cleared my desk from the detritus of summer: receipts, brochures from places visited, more receipts, bookmarks, books. I still have Maryland taxes and several books to clear off. Plus an old slinky. Tim and I picked up the desk I bought yesterday. I made school lunch. I asked about school. I RSVP'd for a birthday party. All the typical mom things I suppose.

What do I have to offer that could make me some money? Making something, writing about something, teaching something, calculating something, moving around.

I was so disoriented after Feldenkrais last night. I actually felt funny getting up, and all we did was move our eyes, our heads, and our tongues and sometimes our knees. It was a powerful yet simple lesson.

Rolling around on the floor is my idea of fun. I really do think it's fascinating to see what the body is up to, where it's resisting, where it's being jerky and stiff. The brain connections, the emothions, the awareness. I love Feldenkrais. I used to love dance. I sort of like yoga although I never really fell in love with yoga, although I wanted to. It's like Gretchen Rubin of the Happiness Project says, you can't control what you like. Be Gretchen. Be Janet. I like this stuff a lot.
And I love Clarissa Pinkola Estes of Women Who Run With the Wolves, Jungian psychotherapist and mythologist.
And I loved dance history with Barbara Land at University of Nevada, Reno, the history that started in ancient times in ritual, and is illustrated on clay pots.
I also loved environmental toxicology in college. I think epidemiology is fascinating.
My favorite season is spring, because I love flowers and a little rain and cool temperatures. I think I should live in Scotland, where my ancestors are from, where it rains and is cool and green. Maybe not so great in winter, and my true home is the San Francisco Bay Area in the New World. Nevada is beautiful in its way and I adore the open and apacious views, the big sky country feeling, but it's much too dry and hot.
Francesca and I spent time at Lake Tahoe today, at Nevada Beach for a birthday party with friends. It was pretty windy, but still warm and pretty.

Out of the Fog

I came out of my depression last night, so this morning after dropping off Francesca I didn't drive around randomly. I went right home and had another cup of tea, and a bowl of raisin bran. I went to the first Feldenkrais class in Carson City last night. It takes me about 35 minutes to drive there, which is so much nicer than the hour and 15 minutes to drive to the class in Reno. We laid on the floor with our knees up, and slowly moved the edges of our feet this way and that which had the effect of working our legs loosely in our hip joints. When I got up I was relieved to discover my depression had dissipated. Perhaps it was only that I focused on something besides the triggering thoughts repeating over and over in my head, but it worked and I am grateful and lighter today.
I thought of another middle class assumption: that your children don't go to community college. There is this middle class ritual of the college application,the scholarship, the going off to college. Community college is apparently for those who 1. don't have the grades to get into a four year university 2. those who didn't save the money to send their kids to a four year university 3. a combination of bad grades and no money which doesn't allow your child to receive a merit scholarship to attend a four year university. But the key is "Four Year University". Maybe my community college was unusual but I had fantastic instructors who gave a lot of personal attention. Classes were cooperative, it wasn't a cutthroat cometition to see who would get the highest grade, and therefore an "A", if everyone reached the same level of competance everyone got an "A". And guess what - it was free! Free college education. Now this option no longer exists- California's community colleges are the midst of a serious budget crunch along with every other state funded program, but they're probably still cheaper than any four year college you could name, and definitely any private university. You knowyour middle class if: going a hundred thousand dollars into debt is just a rite of passage for sending your kids to a real four year university. you would never send your kids to a lowly community college, despite any well deserved reputation for academic excellence, small class sizes, or lower cost. Going away to college is a god given right.

I recently started reading Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project, and decided to start my own project. Well, on her blog this week, the resolution is to do something every day. July is focused on CREATIVITY so the resolution is to do something creative every day. I would like to write, knit and dance every day, even if for only ten minutes each. So I am starting with writing. I did write in my journal this morning. I was feeling really depressed, so I drove around randomly after dropping Francesca off at her theatre camp, stopped in a shady spot at the Minden Creamery and wrote in my journal about how I was feeling. Which was that I was feeling awful, but why? Difficulties in my marriage, which I sometimes feel is all I've got. I realized since I haven't seen the neighbors I normally walk with, that even that is making me feel depressed. I really enjoy that daily talk, ruminating on the weather, discussing neighbors' activities or the water situation. Linda has been out of town, Sandy is out of town, Pat's knees are hurting, Kathy doesn't walk with us in summer, and I don't know where Diane is. I know Diane's family is going out of town, but I don't know when, so it could be they are already gone. Anyway the last three times I've walked I've been all alone. Maybe Linda will be home soon and I can walk with her.

I've resolved to exercise more. I am planning ot go to the weight training class on Monday Wednesday and Friday mornings, until August 5th. Starting tomorrow. See what difference a month can make. Summers are crazy because there is always the possibility of leaving town for week, which we may do in August. Plus I have reservations for camping at Fallen Leaf Lake the first week of August, so weight training may have to wait.

I have an idea for a book that involves lessons in middle class suburbia. What is funny is that people who grow up in suburbia don't even realize they have this skill set for fititng in, whereas those of us who didn't have to figure it out as we go along. Expecially the parenting stuff. Volunteering at the school, college admissions, what to wear, hairstyles, what to bring to a potluck, how to put on a birthday party, what the front yard should look like, what kind of car to drive, how to get your kids into sports, talking to teachers. This is all stuff you have to research and assimilate in order to fit into middle class suburbs. For example the car. I drive a car that seems to be interesting to young Latino males. This is not a middle class suburban car. It has a fake hood air thing, only two doors and low, a dark blue with a pinstripe and tinted windows. Oh my god. So NOT suburban housewife. It is also very very fast on windy mountain roads. If I were a true instinctual suburbanite my car would be, if not the minivan which holds enough kids for a carpool, well at least it would be a sport utility vehicle, probably of foreign make. A Toyota 4-Runner, Highlander, or RAV. Or, if in the slightly uppper middle class group, a Lexus SUV, or an Audi, and if in the lower, a Subaru wagon. I drive a Subaru sporty coupe. Not a mom car by any stretch, but I can always borrow my husband's Subaru wagon if I need to drive a regular mom car. It can have those little stickers on the back that have a mom and a dad and the number of kids and pets, but probably not a sticker that says Kucinich for president. Probably no crystals hanging in the windshield, but I'll have to check on that. If it's the sporty kind of family it can have a bike/ski/kayak rack.

Perhaps I can find some lessons on the internet on how to fit in with the middle class. Or perhaps I ought to move to a city.