Have a Merry Fairy Festivus

With love from your radical commie pinko queer friend in Uppa Jay, I believe that using "Merry Christmas" for the generic seasonal greeting this time of year represents a thoughtless point of view that is causing pain and suffering among all humans.

I believe it is in society's best interest for each individual to _try_ to think and speak from a perspective that does not assume Western privilege or defacto majority. So, for example, I always want able-bodied heterosexual white men to stretch their brains and try to think like, for example, African-American lesbians in wheelchairs, or Indian untouchables who dismantle American cruiseships for a living, sans OSHA or unions.

Just so you know, I was raised Evangelical Fundamentalist Christian, PTL. Maybe I just need therapy and I'll snap into line. Inshallah.

book reaction...to be updated

Only halfway through this book and I am vividly reminded of why I left Hampshire in spring 1985. It is difficult to keep reading, but I hope for a glimmer of light.

Holy napalm, Batman

Monster tantrum that began when I removed Yosi from the car when we got home. I let him roar for a while, then took him upstairs and changed his diaper, administered desitin, gas drops, tooth gel, tylenol. He fought and raged and demanded to be on the changing table. Sat with him with my earplugs in while he flipped right the fuck out for half an hour. Tried to pet him, hold his hand. I think he appreciated that but he fought me away each time. He wanted to be lying on his back on the changing table, not in the crib, not on the floor, not in my arms. He must be in some awful discomfort. Then it passed and he sat up, pulled his socks off and giggled. Is now relatively calm (still hiccuping) and eating some more breakfast. W-o-w.

a glimpse into mama hell

In the early evening Beloved Spouse calls from work to ask me which dinner I would like him to bring home for me from the school dining room, fish or pasta. I choose pasta; he asks if I am sure I don't want fish. He says he'll be home in half an hour; with relief in my sights I mark the time. Our son spits at me, eyeing me for reaction. At least today he is not biting.

Beloved Son, aged nearly two, spits in my face yet again, then as I move to put him into a time out he flings a tiny metal car at my head, laughing lightly. He is so adorable. On Mondays and Fridays we don't have day care for our son. Those are long days for me. Parenting is not coming naturally or easily. If we can be outside all day then it's not so bad.

"Time out! No spitting, no throwing things at people," I say futilely. I've got him seated on the floor, my hands on his little hips, his back to me. My son won't sit still. He wriggles and giggles and wrenches himself around to spit at me again. He's so cute. I perceive the little droplets of my son's spittle as absolutely vile, and am ashamed. Quickly I let the moment go and try to have fun while we wait for Papa. Spitting, laughing, my repeated failures at giving an effective time out, a few minutes of pleasant play, then more spitting. Little elbows in my sore boobs. Little sneakers digging into my thighs. Sprays of spit. I am in toddler nightmare.

Beloved Spouse comes in the door nearly an hour after he called, excited about some deer he saw in our yard. He's forgotten to bring me supper, but asks me to look for it in the car anyway, as I leave to do night chores. It's misty out and moonlit. The dead wet leaves rustle against my shoes and pants. The horse whickers as I pour her kibble and grain into the tub. The chickens coo and murmur as I lock them in and retrieve the day's last egg. I feel crazy as I open and shut the car doors, looking for the plastic container of food that isn't there.

Inside, Spouse and Child are enjoying a harmonious half hour before bath and bed. I try to stay with them but lose my marbles and have to go into another room. The most awful thoughts are raining through my aching head.

smokety smogalicious

Our new neighbor has set up a wood fired boiler to heat their scabby old trailer that they hauled into the lot, and I am fairly sure that they occasionally burn their garbage. Sometimes, like this morning, when the weather is just right, the blue-ish smoke makes a haze in our valley and it is very unpleasant to be outdoors at all until the smoke clears. Once this summer I was out in our yard playing with my son and the poisonous smelling smoke was just pouring out towards us in a great dispersing cone, filling the air with opaque stink, making it intolerable to be outdoors. I grabbed my son and went indoors as fast as I could. This morning I felt unpassive, so went and knocked on this neighbor's door to inquire. Despite my snarky comment about the trailer, I do have the capacity for great tact and charm, and I tried to aim this at her today. I told her that sometimes the smoke smells really bad, not at all like wood. She did not invite us in but stood there with the door open, cigarette smoke wafting out of the trailer. "It's all legal," she rasped, and pointed to the many piles of wood that they have around the boiler. "Maybe it's the So-and-So Family next door." Now, I lived through September 11th and know what burning plastic smells like. I've asked several of our other neighbors and they all have noticed the smoke, but almost no one wants to address the problem because the neighbor has a reputation as a difficult person.

Baby roaring & biting my leg; gotta go. Stay tuned for the unfolding story.

http://www.dec.ny.gov/about/631.html

gimme your stuff

There is a web group called "Gimme Your Stuff" that facilitates international swaps of place-based treats. Generally I can offer American goodies like magazines, cosmetics, candy, snacks, tea and spices. Specifically, I can offer things related to Lake Placid NY and the Adirondacks, notably maple candy. Looking forward to playing with you!

postcard for Frieda

submitting to Aslan's claws

With thanks to http://kezzie-kez.blogspot.com/2007/04/eustace-dragon-meets-aslan.html for typing the passage from Voyage of the Dawn Treader that I quote below.

"The water was as clear as anything and I thought if I could get in there and bathe it would ease the pain in my leg. but the lion told me I must undress first. Mind you, I dont know if he said any words out loud or not.

I was just going to say that I couldn't undress because I hadn't any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that's what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and , instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I jsut stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bathe.

But just as I was going to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they were all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as they had been before. Oh, that's all right, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I'll have to get out of it too. So I scratched and tore again and this underskin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bathe.

Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good.

The the lion said - but I don't know if it spoke - 'You will have to let me undress you.' I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.

The very first tear he made was do deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know - if you've ever picked the scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.

Well, he peele the beastly stuff right off - just as I thought I'd done it myself the other three times, only they hadn't hurt - and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was Ias smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me - I didn't like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I'd no skin on - and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I'd turned into a boy again. You'd think me simply phoney if I told you how I felt about my own arms. I know they've no muscle and are pretty mouldy compared with Caspian's, but I was so glad to see them.

After a bit the lion took me out and dressed me - (with his paws?) - Well, I don't exactly remember that bit. But he did somehow or other: in new clothes - the same I've got on now, as a matter of fact. and then suddenly I was back here. Which is what makes me think it must have been a dream."

tarot card notes -- Artist Trading Cards

August 13, 2009 regarding images found HERE.

Dear Swap-Bot Partner,

Here are your three tarot card ATCS for the swapbot swap: High Priestess, Empress and Magician. I am not familiar with the tarot and found it very interesting to try to make ATCs that would fit the description. It was helpful to know that each card has symbols and that all cards share other symbols, like earth, air, fire & water.

Empress: I chose this little girl as the main design element because she looks full of promise. I decorated her with stars and hearts, which are supposed to be Empress symbols, and added a guard dog as her shield. I chose two words for her, PROMISE and ABUNDANCE, because these words are important in my life. The blue background is her water, the strips of birchbark are her earth (and also more shields in my imagiantion) the baker's string in a star shape is her air, and fire is represented by the subtle radiance around her head as well as the red of the stars and hearts.

High Priestess: I chose a Mom and her child for this one because I am a new mom and I find that parenting is the most private, fulfilled and influential I have ever felt. I chose INFLUENTIAL as one of her words, as well as SECRETIVE, because the communication between my son and me is mysterious. The mom and child are decorated with scrolls, and the sling she has around the child is also a sort of scroll. A moon (conveniently decorated with a charming witch) rests on her hat, and the Statue of Liberty represents a pillar of strength, as does the birch bark strip alongside. The statue and bark are rooted in the earth, the witch flies in the sky, the moon reflects the orange fiery light of the sun, and the child is wearing a watery blue wrap. I imagine that their tears and kisses are also water for this card. Once again I used baker's string to add depth and tie the three cards together.

Magician: This is my favorite image and started the whole idea for me. This woman stands with her herder's staff in a verdant green place—earth, air and water are plentiful. I felt she was a magician because much of Africa, where she is from, is so parched and wrecked, yet this photo shows a lush land. I imagine that is it her desire that placed her in surroundings not desert but verdant green. A number “8” sticker on its side conveniently makes the infinity symbol for this magician, which is echoed in the baker's string once again. She has sparkly roses to aid her magic, and a piece of birch bark with the orange tissue border represents her fire. Her words are RESOURCEFULNESS and POWER, words that echo in my own life out here in the country.

Since you like to make ATCs I enclose two ATC “blanks” prepared with my favorite free local medium: birch bark. I'd enjoy seeing whatever you decide to make with them. I hope you enjoy this swap packet. It was very enjoyable to think about and make. Below are some websites I referred to.

Best regards,

Martha Spear aka NorthernBorder at swapbot

tarothermit.com
lelandra.com/comptarot/womanstarottimeline.htm
feministreview.blogspot search for Rachel Pollack
tarotteachings.com
and images of the “Daughters of the Moon” tarot series viewed online

Dear Motorcycle Gang, STFU

Dear Unmuffled Motorcycle Gang, I am a toddler's parent whose home is on one of the roads you like to ride. Dear Loud Motorcycle People, who are sharing the road with Ironpeople and vehicles from near & far, and wildlife and pedestrians and people with strollers, Dear LOUD, LARGE Mile-Long Motorcycle Gang that has not a muffler nor presumably an intact eardrum among you, please, Dear Gang-ers, *STFU*, you are waking my baby and I can't hear Miles Davis over your rumbly racket as you roar through our river valley. (The latter acronym taught to me by my 16-year-old niece and I think it's a good 'un.)

I simply object to the echoes of unmuffled motorcycle engines along my forested river valley. One such Gang woke my baby today, and I am very mad. My ears are still ringing where I would have liked to box your hog-riders' ears today. May that string of 50 unforgivably loud motorcyclists all run out of gas near a hungry tribe of bears, their credit rating plunge and the fleas of a thousand camels infest their armpits!

Sincerely,

MS

National Geographic 1925 - a set on Flickr

National Geographic 1925 - a set on Flickr

Here is a link to my Flickr set of a scan of a 50+ page article on Ethiopia (then Abyssinia) published in the June 1925 National Geographic, Vol. XLVII, No. 6. I did not ask the magazine for permission to post this and hope it is ok...

I am going to print this out and can hardly wait to read it. The original magazine is returning to its kind lender, Hilari's Mom.

A second Ethiopia article from National Geographic from June 1931 is coming soon.

Sustainable Nonprofits

PND - News - Report Identifies Characteristics of Sustainable Nonprofits

Ah, organizational LEADERSHIP, that elusive and shape-shifting thing. I became a fund-raiser with the aim of eventually running a not-for-profit of the cause of my choice. Now, at this twenty year mark in my career, I sometimes wonder if I have an obligation to step up to the leadership for which I prepared myself.

But then my toddler falls off his hobby horse or rams a rubber truck onto my toes, or needs a poopy diaper changed, or starts to pull a bookshelf over on himself, and I forget everything else but him now.

So now is probably not a good time for me to step up anywhere other than as Mama. Phew, because I don't really want to any more, after seeing how difficult the work is.

swapbot 5 atcs

somethingblue 5 atcs swapbot

This private swap is for a profile surprise. The swapper wishes she spoke French (Montreal maps), enjoys local items (birch bark), enjoy cupcakes cherries (Sharpie sketches) with Modpodge & school glue.

turning into

Turning into a family has been a tremendously deep process. Every second of each day this child is growing closer to us and farther from previous caregivers and his birth mother. My new, more-than-fulltime job is caregiver to Yosef, who reminds me of the Sultan's elephant, my child's outsized sense of himself totally supported and enhanced by our family attachments. Literally so, he grips my hands and fingers as we walk around the property every day. He likes to climb up and down small obstacles like the concerete blocks of the crumbling barn foundation, and the sturdy piles of logs to be bucked, or cedar posts. My son is in control of what he does and how he proceeds through his day. I rarely say no to him, preferring to exist at his service for those hours. When he needs steadying or help, Yosef reaches his open-palmed hand out toward me without even looking, so confident is he that I am there.

Turning into our driveway after a trip to Lake Placid or Plattsburgh, Yosi squeals with delight. He makes the sound to express his joy at three sights: home, papa and mama.

Unrelatedly, today I read an interesting NYT article about great old houses in not-so-great locations, like our stately 1832 riverfront farmhouse ten feet from a state highway. I'll stay close to the road, thanks. In the event of being snowed in or other disaster, we're as safe as one can be in the Adirondacks right here close to the main road.

your slip is showing

I just greeted friends who stopped to offer get something for us in the city. When they left I glanced at myself in the mirror and saw that I had a dead cluster fly in the hairs at the top of my head.

A Confluence of Marthas 2009 on Flickr - Photo Sharing!

A Confluence of Marthas 082108 on Flickr - Photo Sharing!

Stay tuned for details for the 2nd annual Martha meeting.

my secret clubhouse

To belong, one must have been a teenage girl
and currently is an oenephile.
Recipe sharing, bosom baring,
A tip of the hat to how we say 'twat'.
Crested Hens are rare breed chicks,
Whose signal consanguinity is lack of dicks.

taking

These uckers have no souls.

two strange dogs

Our local e-news includes this note today, Mother's Day 2009:

<TWO BLACK DOGS IN THE ELK PASTURE

Sunday afternoon, two black dogs about Lab size were seen in the Elk pasture. It looks like they are in a fairly deep hole in the middle of the field. This hole is about 50 yards from Stickney Bridge Road and opposite Santo Lane.>

Around a year ago I saw two strange dogs in my own pasture. They were so remarkable that they might have been angels, my son's spiritual guardians coming to stare at our bitter cold farm in the USA, where their royal African child would live. The two dogs matched: boxy in shape and liver-spotted piebald in color. When I noticed them I was near the northern corner of our fenced-in area, and the dogs were moving out of the woods along the fence edge. They stopped when we saw each other, me facing them and the dogs perpendicular to the river. With my bent to imagine great import to anything, I snagged on the idea of angels visiting on behalf of my son-to-be. I thought or prayed good will in the rosy spotted dogs' direction, hoping to communicate hope and peace. I felt scrutinized by them and judged myself unworthy because of my many flaws and faults that must have been evident across the shimmering air to the two dogs, the way dogs can hear things humans can't.

RFP -- close but no cigar

There is an interesting Request for Proposals for outdoor classroom programs in National Wildlife Refuge areas. I am surprised to note that there are no national wildlife refuges in the Adirondacks. I wonder why? We have tons of wild animals and outdoor education programs. However, I doubt the scope of the RFP includes establishing a new refuge.

wildlife protection

Hi there. You might enjoy this little true story: some wildlife protection people in our area said we should go ahead and kill some foxes that were using our henhouse as a grocery store. We have a small farm here in the mountains, complete with chickens that roam the yard. The past few years we have had foxes, coyotes, owls and other exciting north american predators eating our birds. I really wanted the killing to stop, but couldn't stand the idea of killing the predators. So I called the local wildlife protection group to ask for their help. They came by with traps and gave us all sorts of advice for weeks. Day after day the foxes and others outsmarted us and continued snatching hens. Eventually my flock was down by more than half, and I was pretty upset...the fox did not always kill cleanly, and we were out of business as egg producers.

Those earnest wildlife people gave up on us in less than a month, and said they could understand if we needed to shoot the foxes, etc. I never did kill any, not for lack of trying; Beloved did.

not for squeamish

Is it only a year ago since my Beloved killed his first hog? I was nurse to his surgeon that cold day. Wow, it has only been one year since that milestone. We got so proficient with that ultimate task. I picture a slightly overgrown market hog, maybe 200 or 250 pounds, hanging elephantinely by one elegant rear hoof from a cross beam in our barn, not even swaying, it's so heavy. The carcass is dirty as a pasture-raised pig will be dirty. At the neck, a vertical dark red slash where, post-rifle shot, the farmer forced in the sharp sticking knife, then twisted mercifully, severing the vein. Closer viewing of the great head shows the tiny bullet hole between the eyes. You know, I can't remember if there is usually a dried trickle of blood there or not. I also have never fully watched the sticking part. The slit neck has bled copiously and still oozes by the time we let the carcass down off the chain.

Black Indians and Others

Just discovered this dvd series by and about Native Americans. We watched "Our Spirits Don't Speak English: Indian Boarding School" last night and I am going to borrow the rest from the lie-berry. Thanks as always to the Clinton Essex Franklin County Library System (CEFLS) online browsing and ordering.

On another note, I have been day dreaming about a NYC trip. Spouse to come along, and maybe baby, but maybe not. Or maybe I will be by myself. The train ride is scenic and serene, the Hudson ice frozen and glittering or maybe it is limpid and undulating under sailboats. I check into the Smith Club, which for those in the know is actually the Williams Club off Madison near enough to Grand Central & Penn Station, both. They have a quiet paneled dining room and a small patio. Or maybe I will stay at the chain hotel on W37 in Little Korea that I used to visit for work, where there is a rooftop bar at the feet of the Empire State Building.

A good day in Saranac Lake and Lake Placid. We enjoyed the 2009 ice castle and then went to a festival on the frozen Mirror Lake, where friends of ours were playing in a heated outdoor stage. (Stone Man Blues Band.)

kisses

100_3458, originally uploaded by adkpersephone.

R.I.P. Cruiser

100_3300, originally uploaded by adkpersephone.

Our dear old dog Cruiser passed away in my arms in our kitchen in late January. He is the best dog I ever knew or hope to know.

Y smiling with his package

Y smiling with his package, originally uploaded by adkpersephone.

Christmastime 2008. I suppose I could say "parcel" or "box." I think this was a box from Aunt Mars and Uncle Frank.

Look at my boy's cherubic face. As you see, Yosi is standing easily, pulling himself along around rooms holding onto furniture and walls. He has two teef! I am so proud of him! It's great to be a family.

shower guests

shower for Yosef Spear autumn 2008, originally uploaded by adkpersephone.

This fall Julie Robinson Robards organized a group of our dear friends and held a baby shower for Yosef. The baby and I received all sorts of gifts, including a story quilt made by Bethany Krawiec (in photo, second from left.) Here are some members of the Crested Hens and the Upper Jay Women's Temperance League at Yosi's shower at Barb's house. L-R: J R Robards, Bethany Krawiec, Amy Fennelly, Wendy Block, Martha Spear, Barb Smith, Nan Amstutz, Sylvia Norton, Ellen Metcalf, Martha Gallagher, Jan Bosland, Susan Lacy and Elly Preston. Photo by Mary Valley (thanks, Mary!) and photos of Yosef provided by the orphanage.