@ The Bettyverse!

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Eating Up the Kale

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]K[/dropcap2]ale. What is it about this green leaf that now seems to be everywhere. On the blogs I read, in magazine recipes, even coming from the mouth of my 2-year-old kid, who just asked my husband if she could eat the winterbror variety I’m growing in the ecobox.

I like kale. Two years ago, I had never tried it. Then I discovered that sauteeing dinosaur kale (which looks like a reptile’s hide) with garlic for a few minutes made a yummy, easy vegetable side dish. Call me a convert.

However, there seems to be a contingent of people who think kale is, well, terrible. They dismiss kale the way I used to hate brussel sprouts, before I had ever eaten one that was not overcooked. My husband hates sweet potatoes in the same manner. His grandmother used to torture his grandfather by making food taste bad. One of her specialties was sweet potato casserole with extra marshmallows, not done in a good way. He refuses to try a yam or sweet potato to this day.

Which lead me to thinking about how sometimes what you like or don’t like is in the preparation. And that lead me to thinking about giving things a chance, even when we’re sure we won’t like it. Which lead me to thinking about the books I missed out on because I didn’t think I’d like them. Or because they were “good” for me. Like broccoli. Not so fond of broccoli.

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I often skip over certain titles when looking for a book to read because they contain elements I have seen work less well in other books. Like angels and fairies. Not fond of angel books or fairy books. Then I read Cassandra Clare’s City of Bones.. Another well-prepared meal.

Of course if after the first bite or sentence, the dish/book is bad, I still feel free to spit it out. Or return it to the library. Or just stop reading.

I guess all that I’m saying is give kale a chance.

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Creating A Tribe to Call My Own

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]T[/dropcap2]hey say you can only be friends with around 150 people at any one time. They being the ubiquitous experts who seem to have opinions on everything. Need to know how many angels fit on the head of a pin? They have the answer. It may not be the right answer, but it’ll be an answer.

“Friend” is defined by my dictionary app as “a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations.” Just who you consider a friend versus an acquaintance hinges on how you define the word “know,” I suppose.

Friendship has been on my mind this week as I’ve started to venture back out into the world of social media. In the past seven days, I’ve started using Twitter in earnest, been checking in on Facebook and learned how to use RSS to follow blogs from my smartphone. The reasons for getting social are varied, but mostly it comes down to this: I’m trying to create a tribe to call my own.

[pullquote1 quotes=”true” align=”right” variation=”teal”] I find myself caring about people I’ve never met, cheering on strangers whose voices I will probably never hear, worrying about their health and welfare. [/pullquote1]Now, this is not to say I don’t have friends. I have friends. They’re amazing, thoughtful and supportive. They’re also mainly more than 300 miles away. Life took us in different directions, and since I moved to Santa Cruz and had a kid, well, keeping in touch has been piecemeal. Many of them are on social media, and by not following, posting or reading I’ve been missing out on their lives.

You Must Eliminate The Anxious Habit To Cure Anxiety And Stop Anxiety Chest Pain Now that you know anxiety disorder is not an illness, but a habit, it should now make sense when I say relaxing then I mean a complete soul relaxation which should include mental, physical and spiritual relaxation. viagra professional generic http://acupuncture4health.ca/treatments/infrared-heat-lamp-therapy/ Erectile dysfunction makes a man quite depressed and sad about the fact that he buy sildenafil tablets fails to satisfy himself and the lady by not providing proper erections it is said that he is facing erectile dysfunction or impotence. If you are a libidinous Grandpa cialis generic pills or are suffering from a tubal blockage. Capacity: Store at room temperature somewhere around 59 and free viagra online 86 degrees F (15-30 degrees C) away from moisture, heat and light. They’re definitely part of my tribe. I care about them and they care about me, if only — mostly — from a distance. But there’s the other part of the tribe I’m still trying to find. Trying to define that part is difficult, because like the definition the Supreme Court gave to art, you know it when you see it. What it comes down to, though, is connection. I’m trying to connect.

The digital age makes it both easier and a little, well, weird. I find myself caring about people I’ve never met, cheering on strangers whose voices I will probably never hear, worrying about their health and welfare. Sometimes I wonder if they do the same. It’s very different than going to a coffee shop with your girlfriends, and yet in some ways it serves the same need.

When the world goes to hell in a handbasket (or a Trader Joe’s reusable bag), the humanity I find online in places like Bettyverse or Twitter remind me that we’re all in this together. That we’re all ultimately part of one tribe, no matter our differences.

I guess that’s the capital “F” Friend in me coming out. If Quakerism had a catechism, it would be “There’s that of God in everyone.” My belief in a capital “G” God might be shaky, but my sense of a shared spirit is not.

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Mothers, Daughters & Love

My mother and me.

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]E[/dropcap2]very night, before she goes to sleep, my daughter chooses a new name for herself. Tonight she was baby humpback whale. I was momma whale. She’s been baby turtle, baby table, baby monster, baby dragonfly and many many more. And I’ve been mommy each of those. Daddy also gets a part in this game, though she usually wants me to be the one to hold her hand as sleep comes. Most every night, I say to her, as I close her door, “Goodnight, baby whale-monster-kitty-thing. I love you.” And she responds “Goodnight momma whale-monster-kitty-thing. I love you too.” And I smile, and wish these days could last forever.

Today was my mother’s birthday. She turned 76. We weren’t sure she would make it to this age. My mom, Barbara Mahal, is now older than my father ever got to be. Five years older than my friend Anne was before she passed. Twenty-six years older than my friend Stan Allison was when we lost him.

Mom is in what is probably the last six months of her life. That makes me sad, yet I find myself grateful too. Grateful that we’ve had the time to cut the tangled yarn and start fresh, grateful that her mentality is still there even though her body is fading, grateful that she seems to be facing life with a measure of happiness every day, instead of gloom.
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Mom and I have a complicated past too entwined with needs and disabilities, with heartaches and disappointments, with anger and suffering to put in any simple terms. But through it all, one thing has been very clear.

I love you, momma whale.

Happy birthday.

Posted in Death, Dying, family, fear, Z-Baby | 2 Comments

I’m home!

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Goodbye 2011

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]G[/dropcap2]oodbye 2011. You were mostly good to me.

Z-baby grew to Z-toddler. Compete with sentences like “No mom, not Martha Squeaks. Martha Speaks!” Silly mommy. Tall girl. Apple of her parents’ eyes.

Celebrated 5th wedding anniversary with the Darling Husband. In San Fran. Saw Tony Bennett live, in concert. The man can sing. Ate at Hubert Keller’s restaurant. The man can cook. Stayed in a romantic hotel. The man can…. better left to the imagination. Left Z-toddler with Nana. Had a wonderful time.

Went on a Zen retreat with my bestie Mary. Sat in stillness. Did a walking meditation. Got away for a while.

Helped open the Center for Games and Playable Media. A lot of games people came. A fair amount of press came. The results were a solid start. Go #ifog.

Nephew was born. Healthy. Saw him, my niece, and their parents (love you , sis) in New Jersey. Celebrated Halloween in June for the darling niece’s birthday party. Made lots of cupcakes and my first watermelon jack-o-lantern. Fun!

Went to Europe with my Uncle J. Learned never to go to Europe with my Uncle J. Saw Vivaldi performed in Venice. Walked ruins in Rome. Basked in the light of the stained glass windows of Sainte-Chapelle. Have good memories despite. Found my favorite color of red lipstick via a Parisian shop. Glamour at last. Missed 20th high school reunion due to trip. CVHS still rules.

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Started work on the book, now books, again. Took class from Lani Diane Rich. Started getting back into writing gear. Hopeful for the future.

Spent Thanksgiving sick at home. Then had a party 2 days later. Used Grandma K’s china. Big success.

Found out my mom is not long for this world. Spent Christmas with her in Florida. Bittersweet.

There were ups. There were downs. There were circular paths. Lots of travel. Lots of laughter. A smattering of tears.

A year in my life… a year of my life. Goodbye 2011. Thanks for the memories.

Photo Credit: Sainte-Chapelle by JK Mahal.

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