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.

making the leap

making the leap, originally uploaded by adkpersephone.

Soon the last of these great beasts will leave our farmette, and we will have a non-barn-chores winter. Although somehow we still have 15+ hens, so maybe we will still have eggs... I do love having those fresh eggs.