A Bitter Message

To have a sound relationship with your bowels is quite a remarkable thing. Something I have struggled with my entire life. I'm sure it's genetic as I remember my mother spending what felt like hours stuck on the pot when I was little. Maybe it's also cuz I'm wound so tight, or maybe it's cuz I love cheese and I've got lactose issues. Either way, it's really hard.

But after many years of chalky liquid mint flavored attempts at relief my herbalist student Aunt recently introduced me to bitters. Made up of various herbs and spices they are, like their name suggests, bitter tasting. She first gave them to me in a non-alcohol based tincture from Gaia. During an entire day of noshing (where cheese was definitely involved) and drinking, I maintained my bitters every four hours or so. The next day, expecting to deal with the usual punishment for such indulgence, I was surprised to find myself relieved 3 times. Without any fight. And not in the insensitive way that just runs out on you. So I became a fan.

Being of limited means, I can't really afford Gaia so I decided to try and make my own. Armed with Healing Tonics by Jeanine Pollack and my herb rack I got to work. I didn't have all of the ingredients in any of the tonics so I just put something together using every ingredient each recipe called for that I actually had. The coolest find was cardamom and star anise. Since I didn't have these spices I almost left them out, but saw a jar of mulling spices I bought over Christmas and noticed it was full of them. In fact most of the spices in there were bitters. Made me think about why they really started drinking mulled wine back in the day...

First I made just one serving, but it was so easy I decided to make a huge batch and refrigerate it. I've been taking it for about a week now 30 minutes or so before I eat. It is magical. So here's the idea behind bitters: when your tongue tastes the flavor, it sends a little note to your brain who tells your pancreas to start those gastric digestive juices flowing. By the time your food is consumed, your body is well equipped to grab the good stuff and wrap the waste in a nice easy package to be passed down the conveyor belt smoothly and efficiently.

Remember the taste is quite bitter, it's not candy, it's medicine. I happen to love the taste, but if you're like Drew who can barely drink fresh squeezed grapefruit juice without vodka, it may not be for you.

Latisha's Bitters

In a 1 quart sauce pan combine the following:

2 TB turmeric

5-6 slices of ginger

handful of cardamom pods

handful of star anise

4-5 tb of ground or chunked dried orange peel

1 TB fennel

2 oz tequila (as lasting preservative)

2 tb chamomile

2-3 sprigs lemon verbena
2-3 sprigs spearmint or peppermint

Fill pan with filtered water. Bring to rolling boil. Simmer for 10 minutes. Turn off heat and cover steeping tea for several hours. Filter with cheesecloth or fine mesh strainer. Enjoy 2-3 ounces before or after a meal.

You really don't need all those ingredients (I always go overboard) so if you have a few try your own recipe. Most of the tonics in the book only call for 3-5 ingredients. You can add a touch of agave nectar to sweeten if necessary, but keep in mind the need for that taste. I also like it heated as an evening tea before bed.

Improve your relationship with your bowels by sending them a bitter message!

Knowing When to Say When

I've had this off and on relationship for almost 10 years now. Every time it's me who calls it quits, and we part on good terms, but they always know I'll be back soon. I know they are good for me, but I want so badly to be better than them it's easy for me fall for anything else that is tempting. The last time I left, I knew it was for good. I threw away all my memories; anything attaching me: cards, letters, pins.

I even stopped hanging around, though we still had many mutual friends. I just knew I had finally made it to a place where I didn't need them in my life anymore. Then last month, I came crawling back on my hands and knees begging for another chance. Of course, I was welcomed in without any questions asked and with an open heart.

I'm talking about my coffee shop job. Over educated, over aged, and a little under trendy I serve lattes with the best of em three days a week...again. I'm trying hard not to hate it cuz the hate weasels its way into every bad thing in my life (really there are so few) and I always blame the coffee for those things, like it's some sort of mood diuretic that makes it all feel like runny poo.

When I started we decided it would be best for me to work nights 6pm to 11pm so we wouldn't have to put Sevi in daycare cuz then my $8/hr really would be like negative $10/hr. We worked it out so my parents would watch sevi for a few hours then Drew would be home around 7 or so. This meant we never saw each other. Neither one of us had any idea how hard this would be on us, on our relationship.

With a little bravery and a lot of hesitation I asked a girlfriend, who had already offered, if she would mind watching sevi a couple of hours in the morning. She overwhelmingly said yes.

So now I work 4am to 10am. Sevi is dropped off around 8:30 and I get her around 10:30 two days a week. Tuesday was the first day and it felt so hard. I know everyone should be so lucky. I keep hoping I'll finally be able to move on from this damn place and know someday my goodbye will really mean something. But for now, I just hope switching times around may help digest the whole thing a little better.

The Hook

I miss the get down and dirty. I miss getting lost in the woods and found in my troubles. I miss dancing on the turn of a phrase and singing to a smart sentence. I miss starting with a punch in the jaw and ending with a tear.

I have to admit I haven't spent much time writing since my workshop ended. I mean I visit this place and spill some guts, but real get down and dirty writing - not so much. I only realized after several irritable days, that was what was missing. So I started thinking about writing. Thinking about phrasing and subjects and the book I long to start. This made me instantly happy. Not in the fulfilled way pushing out a piece every week did, but in a smaller quieter way.

A way that helps me remember it's in there somewhere. Just waiting for the right day and the right page to show it's whole self. I can't wait to meet it. To read the first paragraph and become enamored with the characters.

In the meantime, I've given myself some goals. Also something that has been lacking. Since it's been a while I'm starting small. Here goes:

1. Work on the hook. That first line or two that makes you want to come back. In blog, prose, email, thank you note, whatever. Make it meaningful and enticing.

2. Start reading again. One of the best pieces of advice I've ever been given. Thank you Momma Zen. I think I'll start with some old YA fiction I love as this is the genre of my unwritten book.

3. Do Inspire Me Thursday again. I loved this little community prompt. It got me writing something and it was good practice for my workshop.

4. Finish the article I've been playing with for a national magazine. Edit it. Send it. Let it go.

Every book starts with just one word after all.

Moving her In

We finally decided to let Sevilla live with us. It only took 15 months! A couple of months ago we both started getting really annoyed with all the baby crap everywhere and never being able to keep up with it. This happened about the same time Sevilla started walking...hmm coincidence? We still can't be sure. It was when I read this from one of my favorite bloggers whose home I covet we decided to take some action. (You've got to check out her house it is truly inspired.)

...following our bliss = being bold + fearless, even when it comes to silly things like choosing a couch color. thanks for reminding me. i really do believe in the importance of showing up in our home spaces - filling our homes with treasures and furniture that best represent who we are today (not 10 years ago) so that we can recognize ourselves in our own homes, that our surroundings can evolve just as we do, that we can remember who we are in our own homes every single day. this stuff is so important.

We realized we still had our house pretty much the same before baby. Crazy art on the floor, glass nick knacks, and many other 'nonos.' We moved everything around, bought some kid sized kid organizable furniture, spent some time painting and putting it together, and all of a sudden I'm home. I'm not saying we went crazy with the babyproofing, that's not my style but it was like we hadn't invited her to live with us. We managed to give her a space that is all hers among small the 1200 square feet of 'our' space where we all hang out. She's learning to put her toys away and loves sitting in her chair at her table doing her thing.

We no longer get annoyed about babyshit everywhere and actually find ourselves in her little corner quite often. Welcome home Sevilla, glad you decided to move in.

Dance Your Pants Off

I know I already posted once today, but I was reading my fellow mamas and just had to share and ask you to put on your dancing shoes. You all know I'm not much of a musher but this beautiful child's story brought me tears today. Check out Trish's update and find links to Paityn's site there too. You all should also know by now, that I am however, a mad believer in the universe and the will we all have to make changes.

She needs a liver and her parents are asking everyone to do the liver dance. It's important to give charity when and how you can in terms of toys, time, or money but the power of people and thought cannot be overlooked.

So as you intend for the safety of your loved ones this weekend, do a two-step or four for little Paityn.

Grown-up Date

So here comes a little suburban misfit whining. And some nostalgic shots of the city life we once enjoyed. One of the lamest parts about living in the biggest cul-de-sac in the world is getting out of it. Duh. We are finally, after only 15 months, planning a real grown-up night out with no Sevilla. It's so lame that it's taken this long. There are many reasons why, but that's another entry. This is about this damn city, and the one I sometimes miss. Anything here worth doing is at least 30 minutes away. Yes we did choose to live in one of the furthest out parts, but we didn't know at the time. And I swear it didn't feel like it took so long when we first got here (pre baby). And I can't stop thinking about life in Seattle where we just walked out the door to any number of pleasing establishments with a walk home at the end of the night. And why we ever stayed in. And...

I'm all of a sudden stuck in the days when walking down Post Alley we used to fight about where to eat and ended up each just getting a to go bag at different places and eating at the park on the waterfront sneaking a bottle of wine in a brown bag noshing with the bums that lived there. This leads me down 2nd ave to fresh fish, and veggies, and flowers. Whenever I wanted. Battling the tourists was easy since I knew all the best stands, and the bus ride there with a short walk was all the sea air anyone needed to invigorate a lifetime. It was freedom.

Now for the current version: Sick of the prompting from friends and a little stir crazy, I finally got brave enough to ask one to babysit. Our date is at 7 pm in Scottsdale and since we live in Allwhit-- I mean Ahwatukee, it's a little bit of a hike for us. This means dropping Sevilla off at my dear friend Nicki's at 5:45 to warm her up a little bit, leaving by 6:15 to make it in time, and waiting another 20 to 30 before we have our first sip of beer. It's sorta like going to the airport. Oh - then the drive home, only able to enjoy a beer or at most two so our daughter still has parents at the end of the night as a taxi cab would be the cost of a whole other dinner. No walking down the alley stumbling into our apartment, our only worry that we chose the right door.

Just thinking about it makes me tired. First we had to plan it. Pick a day, coordinate babysitters, negotiate driving situations. Not even considering the whole two hours before of preparation: making sure she's fed, packed, changed; I'm showered, packed, and, changed. Yah, yah, another post. No wonder we haven't done it yet. We are just sophomores after all, and barely got our license to drive. I used to think, and on a bad day still do, it was this city but maybe it just takes practice no matter where you live to know you're not gonna crash, the kids are not gonna crash. Just buckle up and we'll all make it home safe. I can't imagine trying to haul Sevi up and down Capital Hill anyway. So I've come to realize one of the greatest parts about living in the largest cul-de-sac is that there are lots of places to practice - albeit all over. To get things started, we'll be at the awesome Sonora Brewhouse with my favorite Mental Momma and her guy this evening. Don't get me wrong, I really do love Phoenix, it has so much to offer and I'm really becoming a desert rat. But stuck in our little half moon we realized this little piece of our past needs to somehow find it's way into our present. So, my parents have agreed to take Sevilla every other Wednesday (our usual family dinner night) and let Drew and I go out on the town. Together or alone.
No more trendy haircut or whimsical stops in a new coffee shop, but I look forward to planning my wandering Wednesdays. Hello world.

Beet Yellow

Our one and only golden. Funny how beets are supposed to be the easiest thing to grow and we only got one. All the beginning gardener books say grow beets, grow beets, you can't loose.

We got all sorts of other stuff, but just one lonely golden beet. I got to thinking in my strange sleepy headed way after picking our harvest this morning (the best time to pluck your garden btw) and wished there could be a beet yellow.

I find myself slightly embarrassed about my choices sometimes. And it's not embarrassed cuz I think they are necessarily dumb choices, but cuz I'm afraid of what you might think of me. I'm not so embarrassed to become beet red, but beet yellow seems just about the right color of embarrassment. I'm on my way to not giving a shit.

Many of the ladies in my writing class kept telling me one of the most beautiful things that comes with age as a woman is having more confidence to say what you think and mean it. I'm trying it on a little and it still feels strange. For now, I'll just enjoy my little golden and put out some better hope for next fall's crop.

Love of a Locavore

Part of sustainable living is supporting small local businesses. There's a million reasons to buy local not the least of which, according to Local First Arizona (a cooperative supporting and promoting local Arizona businesses) is that 45 cents of every dollar stays here when you do. I try to stay current on all the LFA events and visit their website often, but it is sometimes hard to do. However, they have now made it easy on everyone to stay updated with their new blog! So next time you are looking for an awesome birthday gift or have a hankering for a good cup of coffee try the LFA business directory. I get it, we have a global economy and I know the world is flat, but don't you think it'd be a good idea to start here first? Check it out and buy local!

Refresh

I have chronic ingrown toenails. Gross I know, but the facts of life often are. I used to think it was because I had to squeeze my size eight and a half's into a size seven. But since I moved to Arizona, I only wear shoes with toes when I run or hike, which lately is very very rare. So it must be some kind of genetic code telling my feet to grow my toes wrong. In any case, it sucks.

When I was little my parents used to hold me down, my dad grabbing my arms, my mom sitting on my legs while she took the tweezers, clippers and other cutting paraphernalia and pull them out. I went around for the next week with an aching red toe, bleeding out and open exposed skin waiting to attract some horrible bacteria. Yes, someone should have called CPS. Now years later, I do my own surgery, a much more mild version of the above yet it always leaves a sore toe and some exposed skin.

Here's my boho hippie cure (great for just plain tired feet too):

Use a large tub big enough for at least one fully submerged foot.
1 gallon hot as you can stand it water
1 cup Epsom salt
5 drops peppermint essential oil

***(use extreme caution with peppermint oil, it is very strong - but has great anti viral and infection fighting properties!)***

Soak as long as you like letting it air dry. You will feel a cool, tingling sensation on your feet for hours after. This is normal, and refreshing!

Cooking up Some Zen

So just as I was gloating on facebook about my daughter sleeping two 10 hour nights in a row AND taking two 1.5 hour no-fight naps on those same days, she decides today is not the day for napping. Morning napping anyway. (She's conked out, without fight, as I type this now.)

After closing at the bux till 11pm, Drew having to be to work early, and preparing our weekly family dinner it makes perfect sense that today would be just the day not to nap. At first, I was annoyed. I could feel the ball of stress start to creep in, the pain in my right shoulder start to pulse like the damn beepers at Starbucks, my jaw tighten, my stomach acid churning. She was robbing ME of MY time after all. After about 15 minutes of this, just before my hand fell asleep - a by product of the stress ball - I said enough. Done. Just get up. Like Trinity in the Matrix, I was lying there in the face of death (or the start to another bad day) and I had to tell myself no, convince myself to just get up. Get up, Latisha, get up.

So I did. I went to the kitchen and started cooking - my only zen-promoting relaxation technique that works with a toddler pulling on my leg. I turned all my anger and frustration into a pea pesto, a vegetable bouillon, a pea/garlic broth, some stir fry prep for dinner, and a fancy sherry ginger stir fry sauce for the fridge - all in two hours. I could have gone another way.

Welcome back LG. I'm no longer just a mom. Now, if only I can get one of those cool leather suits...

Camping Again!

I'm off with my friend supermom Kelli, her two crazy boys (Jackson, 4 and Finn, 2) and her friend Sabra for a mom's only camping adventure up in Christopher Creek. No dad's allowed!!!!

Wish us luck!!

Mommy Muscle

In light of the snot theme running through blogs, thought I'd share my own little tale of triumphing through the boogs.

Sevilla is chronically boogered. I'm talking big, crusty, brown, rocks of snot that dry up and cork her little nose making it whistle and pfft as she breathes. The pediatrician assures us this is normal and just a by product of desert living. I worry, of course, because I have terrible allergies and see a gross runny future I had hoped she would miss.

In today's little rocks, though, I learned something amazing about my abilities as a mother. Usually I let her walk around with the boogs for days because I hate the fight I get from torturing her so and in my previously weakened state, did not have the energy nor did I want to make her hate me. Oh how I see things differently now!!! Eventually, in a hot bath or splashing at the pool we can easily pull them out. This fine morning however, I decided to use a little mommy muscle. I've grown up lately, and seen the light so as soon as I saw these giant boulders in her nose I attacked.

I grabbed my girl, sat her on my lap and wrapped my left arm around her WWE style tucking in her hands and arms. Next ,I tipped her back, right hand armed with saline spray I squeezed - hard, fast, and many, many times. She wormed, but my aim was good and streams of salty water blasted through the brown fortress of her nostrils. She ran away coughing and I let her sulk for 3 - 5 minutes. I moved in for my second attack. Again, Sevi in the mommy hold I grabbed her nostrils, pumped a couple of times and pulled and pulled until every bit of rolled up dried up dust and mucus was extracted.

Oddly enough, she's not mad at me. She's no longer rubbing her nose and shaking her head in frustration and she is lavishly adorning me with besos (kisses). Yay for the mommy muscle! I wouldn't have done this in a million years just a few weeks ago. I think I'm really starting to like this whole 'coming out of the dark side' stuff!!

Shine on you Crazy People

It wasn't long ago, just a couple of weeks actually, that simply putting on something other than what I woke up in was the major task of the day.

There was no cleaning, little eating, passive playing with the baby, and certainly no me-stuff but feeling sorry going on. It's a funny thing, and one I'll probably be reflecting on for some time, to realize you've been gone for a while. But I'm gonna try to get back to some boho hippie stuff too and see if I can work it all in. Anyway, I can't help but notice every little detail these days. How shiny my life really is.

Today, I accomplished some major (well to this SAHM anyway) tasks, and had a pretty good time. I don't remember when I had such a good time with mopping, folding diapers, washing dishes, grocery shopping, and preparing lunches. Not to mention the mean tower Sevi and I built then destroyed out of various wooden objects the least of which were blocks.

Here's my recipe for clean floors (we have tile but I think it would work on anything - maybe be careful about the EO with wood) without the nasty toxic stuff, and if you're missing your Pinesol it has a faint similarity in smell.

1 gallon hot water
1/4 cup white vinegar
1-2 tb castille soap (depends on level of grime - it'd been a month for me so 2 tb was in order)
15 drops Rosemary essential oil

And yes, I spent the whole day chasing Sevilla with a wet rag. I should get clean floors for at least one day right?

Now, I'm talking fresh

A major benefit to having an awesome husband who can garden his pants off is fresh herbs in my salad, tea, or whatever.

We have these wine glass holders affixed under our cupboards and I never really liked them with glasses on em, too crowded. So we put the glasses away just in time for harvesting and started using them to dry herbs. All the herbies I meet always talk about being creative and decorative with your drying to get the most enjoyment out of the plant. After all, we don't just do it for nourishment otherwise we'd just buy it from the store. The racks work out really well, actually and provide function as well as art - my favorite kind of decor.

So when I'm cooking up something good, all I have to do is put my bowl under the desired herb and rub. Immediately all my culinary and gastric wishes are granted and life is good.
Parsley, marjoram, lemon verbena, cilantro, sage, oregano, lavender, spearmint... oh my!

Out of and into Darkness

Saturday marked an end to an amazing journey I have been on. Last year I stumbled on a local writing workshop for mothers and spent the entire year and two registration deadlines dreaming of having the courage to go. This spring, I went.

Aside from the obvious writing stuff, it was really a strange but remarkable form of therapy. To sit in a room full of women, many older and/or wiser than me, and hear their stories told in beautiful prose and poetry helped me understand mine. I didn't realize I was depressed, though many concerned friends had hinted, until I shared my writing with these 17 strangers.

Week by week I felt myself being drawn out of a darkness I had no idea existed. With each prompt I pulled myself together, put on a cute outfit, and made the long drive to Scottsdale. In these details, these small me-only tasks, I started to feel like a living person again. The writing was just a vehicle.

Ironically, this week I finally closed our blinds and curtains. It's just getting a little hot in Phoenix and I'm trying to be energy conscious and not use the AC too much. Our high windows bring in some sun - and well it is sunny all the time so patches sneak through the blinds to keep us from being completely in the dark. But like my kitties, and thanks to MWW, I've finally regained the courage to always look for the light no matter how dark things get.

Reading Mamas

Please come!! You know you want to! I'm reading a piece called 'Napkin.' And um, today's my birthday (i'm 30) so you sorta owe it to me right?? Hope to see you there!! How many more punctuations marks can i use? Come, please come.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, am i really reading in public, really??

Best Buds

Well now that I've righted myself from my tipping boat a bit, back to some more boho fun.

I drank a few too many bloody mary's and had a little too much lemon in my water during our family camping trip (which i will chat about soon) and came back with some awesome canker sores at the back of my mouth near my molars. Three large gaping ulcers to be exact all in the same square inch of my mouth. What a reward for having a good time. It was the most painful thing I have had to deal with well since, Sevilla. Ironically, I think she is now starting to cut her molars. The universe is mysterious.

In my quest to stay natural in all things medicinal I scanned my books for a cure. It seems clove oil has been used for centuries in dentistry to help with pain, bad breath, and healing. It's also found in many of the commercial products on the market, Xylitol and Anbesol, if I remember correctly -- but don't sue if I mixed it up please.

I have some clove oil but the jar say not for internal use so I got a little nervous even though many of my books say it's okay in dabs. I decided instead just to chew on a little clove bud until it turned to powder and keep it there until it dissolved. It really works!

My mouth felt a tad bit numb for a few minutes but after that and for about three hours later, I felt no pain at all. This was especially surprising since yesterday was also our fast day (again more on this later) and I drank a ton of acidic juices. As soon as I felt the pain, I popped another bud and all was well. The best part is that my cankers are all but gone, just a little thick skin remains. Looks like the cloves were healing them while helping my pain.

Though these cures seem to work every time, I'm always in such awe of what nature provides us. Now, I just need to find something that I can give a teething one-year-old.

Timing is Everything

So much of success is about timing. You can talk about luck (which is part of timing), skill, desire, need etc but really it boils down getting the minute to match the motion. Did you put the garlic in just before the end of the stir fry? or Can you stop the soft serve machine just before the point where the whole thing topples over? Getting it just at the right second is all about practice. It takes a ton of burnt garlic before you figure out that perfect taste. But your life unfolds, grows, expands, and contracts as you cook each clove. My favorite zen mama talks about this all the time. And lately I haven't really wanted to listen. I've wanted to do it all right now, and go figure, I can't get the timing right.

Sevi and I have been in a month-long fight and I can't seem to figure out when to be there for her and when not to. I can't get her naps right (which is any stay-at-home mom's Valium) or navigate the rough waters of her moods -- and mine.

I've been on a major push to get my family totally green and natural. I can't find time to make shampoo, or clean my house since I make that stuff too. My apothecary is a messy pile of herbs, jars and half-finished potions.

I want to write. To put something together good enough to submit. I've even got a couple of places picked out. But since I've been bringing first drafts (or idea vomits i call em) to my writing workshop lately, I can't imagine how I'll find the time for this.

I want to get healthy. To be able to walk around the park without shortness of breath. To be able to let Sevi run and play and keep up with her. To be able to wear her out before she wears me out!

But, I can't get my schedule right. This morning however, I woke up in a zen-like state: doing one activity at a time. Finishing it completely before starting the next. I felt calm. When Sevi started showing signs of tired, instead of getting into an hour-long fight like we usually do, I finished washing the plate I was working on, and took her outside. She played in the garden, watched the birds, ate a couple of bugs and sprigs of parsley. I, in my moment-by-moment mode, noticed much of our garden was ready to be harvested so I got my basket and started picking. We got dirty, sweaty, and good and tired.

There was no fight this morning at her nap. The usual fight from 8:30 to 9:30 was replaced by a conversation with nature. What a better way to spend our time.

So what right? Well here's the deal. We're gonna get green and natural soon, just when we need to add the garlic. Our health will slowly improve a penny a pound. I'm gonna be a writer someday and I'll practice as often as I feel called to. But for now the timing's not right. Now, I'm a stay-at-home mommy to a growing little person who wants to take it all in. And to succeed at that, time is all I got.

Camping Heaven

Alamo Lake here we come!! See ya next week sometime...maybe....