Doing "Right-Right"

... ... ... Medieval-style.

I have been feeling weighed down lately by the many conflicts that seem to mark this year. Between countries, between religions, between races, between genders, between friends, between family members... and of course the undeniable conflicts within myself. For a number of reasons, mortality has also been a subject of thought for me these days. Although such contemplations are not easy or pain-free, I am grateful for their presence... I am indeed learning much and gaining patience.

Arhia, Rhiannon, Goat, Annwn.

When I was a child, I spent the majority of my time playing with big sister Rhiannon. She was the strong one, the imagination genie, the adventure warrior, and the one upon whom I modeled myself. I would have been utterly at a loss without her; she made my childhood what it was. A fight between us was rare--- she was a leader, I was a follower, we liked our positions, and I didn't often feel a need to oppose her. But inevitably a tiff occurred... and then woe betide me. Of course I am lucky. Annwn was much oftener the one left out. But alas I can only speak to my own experience, so I will say: it was hell being in the shadow of Rhiannon's frown. To make me understand the true meaning of my sin, whatever that may have been, Rhiannon would attach herself to Annwn instead and enact a little maneuver we called "Doing Right-Right." The tactic is simple: #1 (Rhiannon) shuns all communication with #2 (Arhia), making sure to rub her fantastic relationship with #3 (Annwn) in #2's face. Secret whispers and derisive laughs abound. Many a time #2 and #3 were switched up, as I said above, but of course I don't remember this clearly--- such is the human mind! The game was ridiculously effective, aka hurtful. Once upon a time I thought this was an invention of my tribe, but now I've come to understand it is a common practice among children... though perhaps known by another name.

Sun Tzu's Art of War.

As I remember it, we did this both to punish the one left out, and to create a sense of closeness between the two who "did right-right." To draw comparisons again with war: The enemy of my enemy is my friend... or, They had a common enemy. The cruel games of children, of course, are but trifling when one considers those we inflict upon each other as adults. Still, it seems to me that many motives remain the same. There is a desire to punish, and to identify over shared similarity with the one who is not marked by strangeness. Somehow it is a part of human nature, that reflex we have to shy away from difference--- to abhor things unknown (or wrongly perceived as unknown). 

Ready set awesome.

I have many a time committed acts of discrimination based on fear of difference. There are endless varieties of discrimination, some of them passing as unseen, socially acceptable, or even socially approved. For example, before Myer was hired at Harvard Business School, I had a habit of talking about "that kind of person" in a markedly rude and ignorant manner. This sort of discrimination, however, is highly acceptable among many people, even the well-educated. It can actually get you points to talk down about "corrupt Ivy League business people" in many circles. I understand that it may be a wholly different matter than, say, the Fergusen-style racial atrocities going on in this country.... but fear is fear. Discrimination is discrimination. And I believe that whenever I use biased, judgmental, and ignorant language in any arena, I contribute to horrid acts such as the killing of Michael Brown. My friends and family may not ever think to call me "racist," but I sincerely see myself as necessarily having to be part of the problem. 

Racism is made of many ingredients, and none of them is equal to the product. Racism is made of non-racist elements. Like, imagine racism is a cookie--- that cookie does not include any ingredient in the recipe called "cookie".... it includes flour, sugar, butter, chocolate, nuts, etc. Saying a cookie is made out of cookies sounds ridiculous; so, too, does saying that racism is made out of racists. Ingredients in the cookie of racism include actions I myself have initiated, such as turning away from a man asking for money on the street because I was ashamed, when I could at least have smiled at him with genuine kindness... or making jokes about those "stupid jock guys" instead of putting myself in their shoes and contemplating the history and circumstances that formed them. Discrimination based on race, religion, sexual preference, gender, social or economic status... all of these have lengthy recipes and none of them exists apart from the fabric that is made from all of us. 

The best Imagine.

The new year is always a time for "resolutions," for fresh commitments and rejuvenated investment in living out one's beliefs... but I wish to make this promise every day: I shall strive to awaken within each moment, so that I may see my judgments before they calcify; to listen deeply without an agenda, without a need to prove or convince; to keep always in mind the subjective nature of truth so as not to be caught in the trap of righteousness; and to remain conscious of the contrast between my body's impermanence and the endlessly reverberating nature of my actions. Obviously I shall make countless mistakes as I continue to learn... but I do believe I have the capacity to become a creature of greater wisdom and awareness.

By: Thich Nhat Hanh

"Paleo" Flourless Chocolate Cake

The CAKE, ready for its close-up.

Myer tastes the cake.

For about a year an a half, Myer and I have been eating a mostly Paleo-style diet. We decided to take this route due to a number of factors, including a book we both read titled Good Calories, Bad Calories by science journalist Gary Taubes. I could write countless blog posts about various aspects of this book/diet/lifestyle; suffice it to say, however, that I've not done much baking lately. I don't crave bread or grain products--- I actually never had much of a passion for them--- but when a birthday rolls around, I do like to create something that I can stick candles into. This year for Myer's birthday I dreamed up a cake recipe in my brain-kitchen that seemed flawless. I only needed to manifest it! I didn't have much of a budget to buy extra ingredients for experimentation, so I had to trust the vision and hope that a failure in the kitchen wouldn't lower my wife-score too dramatically. Luckily for me, the first try was an absolute success! You know how I could tell? The look in Myer's eyes: Pure Love. If you've ever cooked something delicious for your beloved, you know exactly what I mean. 

The ingredients are very simple, which, I believe, is the basic tenet of "Paleo" eating. I've read some recipes that are so long and complex, it seems the antithesis of ancestral eating philosophy... I mean, to be frank, baking isn't really "Paleo" at all, is it? That's why I don't do it very often. Anyhow, the simpler, the better. And the less processed your initial ingredients, the better. Here's what you need:

The Requisite Elements.

These are the main ingredients, although I also added some spices and vanilla. Below is the recipe with amounts and instructions:

Cake... Perfect Husband Phood.

PALEO CHOCOLATE CAKE

6 VERY RIPE BANANAS

6 EGGS

¼ CUP COCONUT OIL

1 TABLESPOON VANILLA

2 ½ TEASPOONS BAKING SODA

2 TEASPOONS CINNAMON

1 TEASPOON GINGER

PINCH OF CAYENNE

PINCH OF CLOVES

2 CUPS COCOA POWDER

COMBINE BANANAS, EGGS, COCONUT OIL, AND VANILLA; MASH/MIX WELL. COMBINE SPICES, COCOA AND BAKING SODA. THEN STIR DRY INGREDIENTS INTO WET UNTIL CONSISTENCY IS SMOOTH.

BAKE AT 350°F IN WELL-OILED SPRINGFORM PAN WITH PARCHMENT PAPER UNTIL TOOTHPICK COMES CLEAN, ABOUT 1 HOUR 5 MINUTES

WHEN COOL, FROST WITH ALMOND BUTTER AND DECORATE WITH YOUR CHOICE OF DRIED FRUIT.

I put a bottle of honey out at the party, just in case folks wanted more sweetness than the bananas and raisins had to offer, but no one opted for a drizzle. Either they were being super-polite, or else the cake really did please everybody. Myer's pleasure was unmistakable, I can tell you that. Husband cake-tasting-expression does not lie! All in all, it was an exciting experiment and I look forward to other similar culinary experiences on future special occasions.

Consistency and texture were amazing....

It was VERY dark chocolate....

These raspberries were grown, picked, and dried by Mom....

Myer gets his wish!

Hair: God, Sex, Death & Power

Birds in Autumn.

Rapunzel, A. Rackham

There was a time, many years ago, when I took pride in my hair. Well, not in my hair, exactly, but rather in the fact that it was virgin hair. Actually, among the girls of the Kohlmoos household, the thought of cutting one's hair off was to be looked upon with abhorrence and disdain--- an insult to the "ways of the clan." Girlfriends might say to us on occasion, "your hair needs a trim; it will grow longer that way. Look at all the split ends!" That seemed ridiculous, however... cut it to make it longer? Pishaw! Somehow that made us all the more protective of our ragged 'dos. We all wanted long hair; really long hair, like down to our butts, down to our ankles. It seemed the equivalence of beauty, based on various fairy-tales Mom had read to us. But there was also something about the wildness, the extremity of it--- of not allowing a scissors to touch the hair at all--- that appealed to our sense of identity. 

Ok, I lied above. I did cut my hair once as a child, when I was about four. I remember standing outside on the bench... enjoying the sound the cutting made as it echoed through the strands of hair and into my brain, a luscious munching noise. I felt like I was doing something dangerous, and had a wonderful time imagining what Mom would say when she saw me. Of course she wasn't angry, but I did get to see a reaction... always fun for a kid.  

The Beloved Thich Nhat Hanh.

Hindu practitioner of asceticism.

Throughout history and across the earth, hair has always carried weighty significance. The cutting, styling, or strategic letting-be of hair is sometimes overtly symbolic, sometimes a more subtle form of cultural code. Almost all religions have rules and customs pertaining to hair. Buddhist monks and nuns shave their heads to signal their commitment to the practice of seeing beyond the ego and its world of *things*. (I heard Thich Nhat Hanh answer this question once; he said, "We shave our heads first of all to remind ourselves that we are monks and nuns... but also to let other people know not to try and marry us." TNH humor.)  In much of the Islamic world, women are required to cover their hair as a sign of modesty--- hair being considered a sexual aspect of the human body. For similar reasons, some ultra-Orthodox Jewish women shave their heads just before marriage. The idea is the same: modesty is equated with covering the hair. However, in this tradition, it became custom a to shave the hair off as a way of making the covering of it an easier task. Some resources also trace the practice back to ancient times when non-Jewish European kings had the "right" to sleep with any Jewish woman on her wedding night... so she might shave her head in the hopes that he would find her less attractive. In an apparently opposing tradition, certain Hindu ascetics who have dedicated themselves to achieving moksa (liberation from the wheel of birth and death), leave their hair completely uncut and untended, eventually developing what we would call dreadlocks. Although it differs in appearance from the religious custom of shaving one's head, the purpose is the same: to leave behind ego and the realm of earthly concerns.

Queen Elizabeth I

Unidentified French Grandee.

Hair often becomes symbolic in the realms of politics and war. Think, for example, of Elizabethan England. where an extremely high forehead was considered the beauty ideal for women. It was thought to indicate intelligence, but was also a sign of great wealth, as the cost of having one's hairline plucked regularly would have been quite out of reach for any except the uppermost crust. Queen Elizabeth I definitely contributed to the popularity of this style, and the regal aura it exudes is clear in the portraits painted of her throughout her lifetime.  A similar interplay between style and political power can be witnessed in the fashion for large wigs ("periwigs") that became all the rage in the French and British courts during the mid-1600s and lasted until the French Revolution. Wigs were already becoming a regular accessory by the close of the 16th century due to an epidemic of syphilis, a disease which caused dramatic hair loss. As long, full hair was a symbol of status and prestige, and syphilis a shameful illness for obvious reasons, wig-wearing fast became important for those in high positions. But the fad took off in a serious way thanks to France's Louis XIV and England's Charles II, who suffered from early baldness and grayness, respectively. Soon wigs went from cover-up to status symbol for both sexes, quickly assuming an air of ridiculousness in size and in style (consider the powder pink and blue versions, and those sporting scenery or food!)

Samurai topknot.

Wes Studi in "LOTM".

The distinctive Samurai topknot was originally utilitarian, being designed to fit snugly beneath a helmet. But like the French wig, its utility was forgotten as it morphed into a symbol so powerful that a warrior would cut off his topknot upon being captured as a signal of his shame and imminent demise. Warriors of the Native American tribe known as the Mohawks are the originators of a hairstyle which survives today, although much-changed in both appearance and meaning. Most Hollywood films inaccurately portray this customary 'do, making it look more like the Punk version than the historical reality (see above photo from The Last of the Mohicans). In actuality, Mohawk warriors' hair was plucked out, not shaven, and looked not so much like a strip as a patch near the back of the crown. It also included three hanging, decorated braids. Being the signature hairstyle of a warrior, the "mohawk" served a similar purpose as the Samurai topknot in that it indicated rank and power. (I have to add here that the hair-strip we call "mohawk" has appeared in many places and at many times throughout history, and is not the sole claim of the people whose name we use to refer to it.) These intricate wartime hairdos look even more extraordinary when compared to the current requisite cut of US military personnel. The buzzcut is simple and utilitarian, yes, but also serves to discourage individuality... unlike those highlighted above.

Pamela Anderson for Lange, 1992.

Have you ever entered the fix-it room of a ski or bicycle shop? If the answer is "yes," then you will recognize the poster at right (if not this one, then one like it--- seen one, seen 'em all). Brilliant, no? These girls invariably have big and/or long hair. As a male friend once said to me, "No chick can be hot with short hair." I disagree, naturally, but then... I'm not a guy. (Seriously though: Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta. 'Nuf said!) The point here is that long hair = "sexy" in our culture, and probably for the majority cultures around the world. I suppose it is a certain kind of power, like those French wigs... although I'm not sure who exactly holds the power here, considering the aforementioned comment of a friend. Perhaps the power is fluid in this context; a game like any other. I have seen this game, but even when I had long hair, I never acquired the skill to play. If I ever have occasion to take the bus or train, I like to watch what girls do with their hair when they flirt. It is an art, I swear! The perfect flowing locks, falling just so--- the flirty glance from under them, the flirty *toss* to the side. It is a tool in the complex technology of attraction.  Long/big hair is always "in" to some extent, but one era during which it was a must for almost everyone was the 1980's. I remember going over to the neighbors' house, the Sheridans. They had four girls--- girls who introduced the ragamuffin Kohlmooses to hoola-hoops, banana-seat bikes, jelly shoes, and hairspray. At this point you should revisit the photo at the top of this post; do these girls look like they know jelly shoes or hairspray? But although such things seemed strange and foreign at the time, today I feel a twinge of nostalgia when I see an 80's film in which these items make an appearance. I suppose that is my cultural memory... Yes, hairspray. One must have needed a good bit of it not only in the hair but in the respiratory system to make this shag-carpet insanity look attractive!

Random 1980s yearbook pictures. Yow!

Rituals involving the hair of mourners after the death of a loved one are many and varied. Above we saw how religious renunciation of worldly things can mean either shaving one's hair completely or allowing it to grow untended. Mourning customs are similar in their extremes. Jewish Tradition, for instance, forbids male relatives of the deceased from cutting their beards for seven days, Likewise, male Hindu relatives of a deceased person do not cut their hair for eleven days, but on this day they ceremonially shave both head and beard. There also exists a Nigerian custom in which a widow shaves her head in order to express sorrow at the passing of her husband. 

I think everyone has strong feelings regarding hair, especially women. One reason why I found it so liberating to shave my head is that I stopped obsessing about hair entirely. There's nothing to worry about in that department because nothing can be changed. It is what it is. No decisions are to be made. As a teenager, I used to bring myself to the verge of tears on days when my ponytail had "lumps" or my braid was uneven. My hair was a massive OCD trigger for me. Now, when I see a girl with perfect hair, I don't think "Why isn't MY hair like that?" It's not like that because I have none, haha! Problem solved. Of course I do occasionally wish I could do something radically different with my hair... but overall the shaved-head experience has been a positive one for me. 

Egg-head, 2009.

  

Ten Years

*For Myer*

From across the ocean when I was in Italy.

It has been ten years. It has been ten years since I met this "hot skater boy from California" (as one of my best friends called him). We were both studying at Lawrence University; he had just transferred from Deep Springs, an all-male "cowboy college", and his hair was a wild pink tangle that I could see from across campus as he rode his skateboard to class. Someone told me he was a pianist in the conservatory, but I didn't get to hear him play until the summer when we both stayed on campus to work. I remember he skated to the recital hall--- walked to the stage in what seemed to me a state of total zen calm--- and set the piano on fire with the first movement of Rachmaninoff's second piano sonata. Classical music is the sexiest kind of music... and to me, this piece is the sound of falling in love. Soon I learned that piano was just one of this dude's many sweet swoon-worthy attributes, including gourmet cooking, poetry, painting, and philosophy. When I saw a copy of Douglas Hofstadter's Gödel, Escher, Bach (which Dad owned and held in high esteem) on his bookshelf, my heart thrilled.

The first picture Myer took of me, before we were together, on a walk one autumn afternoon.

 

Cowboy-philosopher punk.

Our first date was a long bike ride early in the morning on my 23rd birthday, September 16th 2004. We didn't know it was a date at the time; only in retrospect did that become clear. I rode my bike after him down an insanely steep hill --- I never would have followed anyone else in such a reckless venture, but nothing was going to separate me from this boy... a conviction that has remained strong ever since. We biked many miles, walked through fields, sat in a tree house in the woods, napped by a lake, and stopped at a tea shop where he bought me chocolate and a special tin of chai tea as a birthday gift. Our conversations were delicious. Back at McCarthy co-op, where he lived that year, I gave him a super awkward hug in thanks. I knew it was awkward, but I just could not leave without embracing him.

After Christmas I went away to study in London and Florence until spring. By this time, we had been dating for only three months; but we decided to "do long-distance" even so. Perhaps Myer didn't know how much it meant to me that he agreed to try this. I had a hard time expressing my deepest feelings back then. But in truth I would have been ruined if we'd broken up. Does that sound pathetic? My whole existence was focused on him--- how could it not be? He used to read ee cummings poetry aloud, and in his first love letter to me he quoted a Joni Mitchell song from Blue... again, how could it not be?

During my time abroad, daydreams of Myer kept me in a constant state of romantic high. We had matching journals in which we'd write letters, xerox the letters and send them to each other, and finally tape them into our respective books... so each of us has a complete copy of our hand-written exchanges. What precious tomes! The time apart was not easy--- I won't pretend that. But it sure as heck was romantic. Myer came to visit me for a week when I was in London, and there we made some pretty unforgettable memories.

A photo I took of my darling in London, which has ever since been my all-time favorite.

Proposal flowers.

After graduating from Lawrence in 2006, we spent a summer apart. It was hellish (for me). Thank goodness that was the last time. We moved to Nebraska together that autumn, where we stayed for three years, figuring out what it meant to live life as a couple and out of college. A learning experience for sure, of the best kind. In spring 2009, when I'd just been accepted into the MFA program at Boston's School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Myer asked me to marry him. We'd not been the "marrying type" up until this time, or so we thought.... therefore, the proposal was unexpectedly exquisite--- one of those days that is the best of days. A rainy cold weekday, I was at work teaching students, and someone brought me a note to come upstairs. I was so scared, because I thought I'd done something wrong and was in trouble with the administration. When I got to the entry hallway, there was Myer, dripping wet and holding a big bouquet. "Arhia," he whispered.... "wanna get married???" He also had a piano string, and that book of ee cummings poems.

Our dorky "twin primes" rings.

We got married in 2009, a week before packing up everything and driving a Penske truck across the country to Boston. Our wedding was epic, thanks to 100+ incredible friends and family who traveled all the way to Nebraska for us. We felt incomprehensibly fortunate to know such love and caring. Often we think back on that occasion and are filled with wonder at the memory. I do believe it helps, in a marriage, to know you have the genuine support of those who matter most--- your family and friends. Our wedding, and the memory of it, has served that purpose for us.

My favorite early photo of us together; Christmas in Lincoln NE, 2004.

Do you remember before you met your partner, or maybe back when you were a teenager just starting to think about romance? Imagining the "perfect" one for you, what he/she would be like? I recall indulging in such daydreams. Thank goodness we don't have the power to manifest this fantasy of a person. What a flat and boring an individual would be the result. (Btw if you want to see a good film on the subject, check out Ruby Sparks). It makes me think about how little I knew of myself, to look back on the imaginary "perfect partners" I conjured. You don't dream the difficult things; but it's the challenges that make the intimacy closer, the joy more real. Take away the left and you have no right. There cannot be one without the other--- left makes the reality of right possible. I've found this to be true about relationships. Welcome the challenges as compost for the bliss.

Myer, you are a first-rate example of a human being. We were friends before we were lovers, and I am infinitely glad. One thing I know: our conversation-well is bottomless. The first thing that drew us together was a sense that the bond of intellect and friendship between us would be iron-clad. I do believe my intuition is a finely-tuned instrument, because that bond has not weakened since the beginning. We were basically kids when we met, and though I'm aware we remain "ignorant youth" in the big scheme of things, I do know that you, Myer, are also one heck of a quality man. I can't comprehend how I stumbled into something so precious; I don't understand why I should have this and not some other. I do know that I am deeply grateful every day. Happy 5th/10th anniversary chickpea, I love you.

Hahaha teenage Myer, so dorky and cute! Sorry dude I couldn't resist ;-) xoxo

 

Rhizome

(With a recipe for turmeric sauce)

Bamboo rhizome

"In botany and dendrology, a rhizome (from Ancient Greek: rhízōma "mass of roots") is a modified subterranean stem of a plant that is usually found underground, often sending out roots and shoots from its nodes. Rhizomes are also called creeping rootstalks and rootstocks. Rhizomes develop from axillary buds and are diageotropic or grow perpendicular to the force of gravity. The rhizome also retains the ability to allow new shoots to grow upwards." --- From Wikipedia

I painted ginger.

I have always liked the word. The beginning reminds me of my sister's name, "Rhiannon." R with a silent H following just feels good on the tongue; sort of soft and velvety, but dry. Think about a root--- this part of any plant is crucial, yet usually goes unseen. I like to imagine the world of roots just below the surface, in the cool dark earth, inhabited by worms and bugs and other quiet crawling creatures. Roots in general are metaphorically powerful, and I use them often in my work. Rhizomes hold a particular fascination because, although they appear to be separate plants above ground, they come from one root underneath. Their structural connectedness has appealed to many, including a certain philosopher-duo whose ridiculously dense writings I attempted to choke down during grad school. Most of that came right back up again, unfortunately. But I think we can agree on this: rhizomes are neat. As I was researching them, I realized that many of these plants hold specific meanings or memories for me. A coincidence, yes, but one that brings a sense of satisfaction.

Turmeric sauce!

Ginger and turmeric, two edible rhizomes from the family zingiberaceae that originate in/near India, have long been my dear friends in the kitchen. I might even say they are my favorite spices, except saying that makes me think of all the other ones I couldn't live without. To me, the taste of ginger goes with everything. Both it and turmeric are extremely useful medicinally, being fabulous anti-inflammatories. Mom used to employ ginger poultices to ease the pain caused by her rheumatoid (another "RH"!) arthritis. I eat ginger in many guises: ginger tea, ginger kombucha, ginger pickles, raw ginger on salad, ginger nut sauce, ginger ice cream, ginger cocktails... I could go on. One of my favorite ways to use turmeric is in a very simple dipping sauce: mix three tablespoons turmeric powder with enough vinegar to make a gloppy consistency, and use it to dip raw or pickled vegetables (I love pickled beets with this). A little bitter, a lot sour, quite pungent, and oh so brightly colored! The list of health benefits attributed to these roots, especially turmeric, is extensive.

Did you know that rhubarb (RH!) is a rhizome? We always had it growing in front of the house back home in Wisconsin. It grew like a mutant, so fast and so tall that we could never use all of it. Rhiannon and I sometimes plucked the largest leaves to serve as umbrellas in the rain. It was that big! We enjoyed munching it plain, but occasionally Mom let us dip it in rice syrup for a special treat. Grandma always grew it, too, and made the best strawberry-rhubarb jam you ever tasted in your life.

Home... summertime. See the rhubarb growing in front?

Ferns and hops are rhizomes, too. If you look carefully, you can see the hops vines in the photo above; on the far right, climbing the poles. That also grew great guns. I don't know what it was in the soil--- things grew at home like they didn't anywhere else. If we had an upset stomach, Dad told us to drink hops tea. We didn't like it at the time! But it helps with nausea. I really wish I had some of those hops flowers now, because I want to try making hops kombucha. Ferns grew in the forest all over our 20-acre property. The fiddlehead variety were delicious to eat in early spring. I remember having them sauteed in goose fat. YUM.

From the "Flower Fairies" books.

Lilies of the valley and irises are rhizomatous. These flowers always make me think of Mom; she grew them in our front garden. Lilies of the valley were an especial favorite of hers. I remember Dad once bought her a bar of soap with this scent, and she saved it for a long time--- letting us sniff it, but not wash our hands with it. There was a beautiful drawing of flowers on the box. Do you know Cicely Mary Barker's Flower Fairy books? They were beloved in our house. I still can recall a few of those poems. Lily-of-the-Valley flower fairy was Mom, of course.

Two more I want to mention before I bring this to an end are "quack" grass and poplar trees. Quack grass is a true nuisance when you are trying to grow vegetables or tend a flower garden; it spreads like nobody's business! You weed one day, and the next--- there it is again. I think you might be able to observe its growth without the aid of time-lapse photography, it's that aggressive. When we used to help Mom weed the garden as kids, she taught us how to really get the quack grass out: you have to pull carefully so that the stiff ropey rhizomes don't just break off... you have to get down to the bottom of it and follow its trailing creepers all the way. Sometimes we were lazy weeders. "Did you make sure to pull the whole thing out?" Mom asked. "Yeah," we lied, knowing we'd just removed the visible portion. Poor Mom! But here's something wonderful about quack: rabbits love it. It was my job to feed the rabbits, and I liked to pick big juicy handfuls of quack for them during the summer. You have to be careful; that grass can cut like fresh paper if you handle it wrong. Imagine, this beautiful grass covered in rainbow dew... and hands after gathering it, cold and stained bright green.

Populus is a genus of tree that includes such species as aspen and poplar. Utah's Pando colony is a cluster of aspens all sharing one root structure and genetic makeup, thought to be some 80,000 years old. Myer has seen it; I would love to some day as well. Poplars hold a special place in my heart. I used to be friends with a particular one back home in Wisconsin, near our place on Spruce Road. I liked to go out all by myself, climb to the top of the tree, and wrap my arms around its trunk. Then I would put my ear tight against the smooth, white skin... and listen. The sound of the wind rushing through the leaves, as channeled from the trunk straight into my head, was one of my secret joys. I pictured falling water and imagined myself flying above the earth. I was always sad when it was time to leave. I wonder... when was the very last time I climbed that tree? I'm glad I didn't know it was the last.

A grove of white poplar trees.

Redhead

My father: flame-haired bicycling stone-sculptor.

I've always wanted red hair. Maybe because Dad is a redhead, or maybe just because it's the brightest and most beautiful color where hair is concerned. As kids, my sisters and I all envied Dad's cascading fiery locks. Sometimes we'd play a game: "If you could change one thing about how you looked..." Desire for red hair usually topped the list. Throughout my life, I have been drawn to people--- fictional, historical, etc.---with this lucky attribute. The relative rarity of red hair (between 1% and 2% of the world's population display the trait) may add to its allure, but in the end it's simply the most beautiful color. I mean, I know "beautiful" is a sticky term and subjective blah blah blah, but really, who can argue that red is the most vivid natural hue seen on the human head? Who doesn't look twice when someone with an actual carrot-top goes by?

Dear Aunt Jan & baby Rhiannon

A host of stereotypes exists concerning the temperament and characteristics of redheads, with varying degrees of truth: "fiery temper", "crazy", "great in bed", "Irish", "not to be trusted", etc. Biologically, there are certain differences for those with red hair. One study found that they resist anesthesia, and require an extra 20% more than other folks during medical procedures. There is also a greater risk of deafness (from extended exposure to loud noise), as well as the commonly recognized susceptibility to sunburn.

Throughout history and across cultures, redheads have put up with a good deal of discrimination. In ancient Egypt, it is said that red-headed women were thought to be unlucky and were often burned at the stake. Greek mythology has them turning into vampires when they die.Aristotle believed that redheads were emotionally primitive. One Medieval recipe for poison included the "fat of a red-headed man." Spanish inquisitors believed red hair was a sign that its owner had stolen the fire of hell and must be burned at the stake as a witch. Hitler apparently had it out for gingers as well, banning the marriage of two redheads for fear they'd produce "deviant" offspring. Go figure.

Famous redheads: King Arthur, Queen Elizabeth I, Vincent Van Gogh, and Marilyn Monroe.

In spite of all this, history is peppered (cayenne peppered? Lol) with great and famous (sometimes infamous) redheads: King Arthur, Cleopatra (apparently escaped being burned at the stake), Judas Iscariot, Genghis Khan, Christopher Columbus, Henry VIII, Elizabeth I, Galileo Galilei, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Mark Twain, Vincent Van Gogh, and Marilyn Monroe among them. In addition, there are many fictional red-haired characters in books and movies that I have loved since childhood, and the list continues to grow. In fact, it's too long for this post, so I will only mention a few here.

Tintin, Pippi Longstocking, Jessica Rabbit, and Rose DeWitt Bukater.

If you love Tintin as much as I do, then you'll know why he must be saluted first. Dad bought us all the Adventures of Tintin when we were kids; several of my sisters learned to read in them. I distinctly remember helping Annwn make her way through The Black Island. Those are good memories of being a big sister. Tintin was adventure to us. We read those books countless times. Everything about Hergé's series of books is perfect--- from the plot lines to the beautiful drawings. And Tintin's red topknot: simply iconic. Next, how about Pippi Longstocking? She was a big hit in our household. Rhiannon even had a character she occasionally played who sported two braids with wire in them to stand out like Pippi's--- the aspirational tomboy spitfire girl. Then there's Who Framed Roger Rabbit, which had a cult following in our family. Again, Rhiannon was the one most obsessed with this film, and so the rest of us were by default. Rhiannon had a stuffed Roger, and hand-sewed a Jessica to accompany him. We even went so far as to build "Toontown" out of crates down on the strip. Jessica Rabbit was the epitome of *gorgeous* to us little snots. And all the more because of her red hair. Another movie character I must add, although some may sneer, is Rose from the much-loved and much-loathed 1997 Titanic. Yes, I liked that film. I still do. Rose's red hair is icing on the cake.

Petronella, The Book of Three, Anne of Green Gables, and The Hero and the Crown.

There was a book called Petronella that I loved as a child. I can scarcely remember the story, but boy do I remember that red hair! The heroine's tresses form a magical puffball of red-gold that is creatively and intricately depicted in the illustrations. I wish I could find a copy to look at once again. Some of our very most favorite books as kids were those of the "High King" series by Lloyd Alexander. I almost wish I had kids just so I could read them these books. If you have not taken part, you are missing out! The main girl character is named Eilonwy, and, you guessed it, she has red hair. It doesn't look like it on the cover of the book shown here, but trust me. Her hair is red. I included Anne of Green Gables more because I owned a very special hardcover copy of that book than because of any great fandom for it as a piece of literature. In fact, the book sort of got my goat. But the illustrations in this version, which was a gift from Dad, were absolutely beautiful. And her hair in these drawings? To die for. The final character I'll mention is Aerin from Robin McKinley's The Hero and the Crown. That book (part of a two book series including The Blue Sword) was also a powerful influence on our five-girl posse, and was read aloud by Mom more than twice. It had us all drawing dragons with tiny, tiny scales for months afterward. Those stories were so nail-bitingly awesome when I was a kid; I wonder how they would seem now? I clearly remember being saddened by how Aerin's hair grows back a darker, less brilliant red after she fights the dragon. Why did McKinley have to do that?

1000 Oceans.

Natural Body Care

Beauty mud bath circa 1985 (?)

When I was a kid growing up in the woods, my parents never bought many "products." Imagine a household of five girls--- and yet nary a moisturizer or spritz or hairspray to be seen in the bathroom cabinet. Actually, nary a bathroom was to be seen, since we had an outhouse. In any case, it wasn't until college that I started to learn about the wide world of products... and how desperately I needed them in spite of never having missed things like "Jergens" before. I remember one of my first roommates laughing at me because neither I nor my mom knew what 409 was; the first of many such experiences. Being rather self-conscious, I was susceptible to the opinions of roommates and decided to hop on the product train. I lusted after designer perfumes and magic lotions of all sorts. Unfortunately, it wasn't until just a couple years ago that I finally started to remember why we hadn't used these things back home in the woods........ because they are toxic. 

Reasons to chuck the "products"!

Just peruse the label of an average shampoo or toothpaste or perfume bottle, and see how many ingredients you can recognize. Well, I certainly need a chemistry class or ten to comprehend much of that! So, do I really want to slather it all over my body? After all, skin is the body's larges organ. It is permeable. We communicate constantly with the physical world through this organ. I don't know why it took so long for me to realize this, but I now feel quite strongly about not using body products that I couldn't also ingest.  Now let me say here that I'm definitely not as thorough about this rule as I sound... I'm still hoping (in vain!) that products prescribed by the dermatologist will eventually clear up my acne. But one by one I continue to banish this or that store-bought item from my regimen and replace it with a homemade concoction. Following are a few I've discovered/invented/heard about/experimented with. It's an evolving process, one of trial and error. You've got to enjoy the mad-scientist-mixing-things-up experience because there are messes and failures involved, for sure!

First, a shameless product placement. My mom always used Dr. Bronner's castile soap for everything, and recently (spurred on by nostalgia and a desire to consolidate products) I've been recreating this part of my childhood. Wow, the smell brings me back! And it is a lovely smell. With very few ingredients and almost all of them organic, this stuff really is "all-in-one." I use it in the bath, on my face, as shampoo, as shaving cream for legs and armpits (gone are the awful pressurized shaving cream bottles; Myer even uses Dr. Bronner's for shaving his face), for hand-washing clothes, as dish soap, for rinsing food, and of course as general hand soap. How great is it to replace so many different bottles with just one? Pretty great, in my opinion. Also you simply can't beat the electrifying tingle of fresh mint oil on your skin. It comes in many scents, and I enjoy the lavender, but peppermint is definitely my standard. Seriously guys. Don't miss out.

Bath & Body
There are many natural body cleaners one can come up with based on just a few ingredients. For shampoo, baking soda works great on its own. Just sprinkle it on your head and lather away. Various body scrubs can be made using either salt or sugar plus some sort of oil. I like crystallized raw honey with lavender oil, or chunky sea salt with coconut oil. My favorite go-to body moisturizer is virgin coconut oil ($5.99/pint at Trader Joe's), but I also like to mix things up. I recently did a combination of coconut oil, beeswax, and cocoa butter that is absolutely exquisite! It smells like heaven and feels pretty dang sexy going on. I've also experimented with different types of body scrubs. One I'm LOVING is a scar-fading, anti-cellulite body scrub that I made with finely-ground fresh dark roast coffee beans, natural cane sugar, and castor oil. You could use any noncomedogenic oil, like jojoba; I had castor on hand. The scent is fantastic, and after you rub it into your skin and oil is absorbed, you can easily rinse the sugar and coffee off in the shower. Seriously luxurious. I swear it helps with stretch marks.

Coconut oil + beeswax + cocoa butter for moisturizing the body.

Coffee + sugar + castor oil cellulite-reducing, scar-fading body scrub.

  Facial Care

I've experimented with a plethora of cleansing facial masks. Some of my favorite combinations so far: clay (I like French green or Aztec) with baking soda, clay with activated charcoal, clay with apple cider vinegar and tea tree oil, and clay with raw honey and coconut oil. Just smear it all over your visage and let it dry for 45 minutes or so, then wash. I am always tempted to pick rather than wash, but this is kind of hard on the skin. A good way to follow the facial mask is by toning and moisturizing. I like to use apple cider vinegar (get unpasteurized) or rose water as toner, and both work well. If you have tender skin, ACV might sting--- but it helps eliminate bad bacteria and also has an alkalizing effect, which is usually helpful. For facial moisturizer, I enjoy either coconut oil or argan oil. Both sink deeply into the skin rather than just making a greasy slick on top. To moisturize lips, I swear by lanolin. I've never used anything else. Some might not like the smell, as it is rather "sheepish" (haha) but I actually enjoy the natural scent. It soaks in deep and stays on for hours. 

Toothpaste, Deodorant, Feminine Care 

Botanical illustration of coconut plant

Two additional products one can replace with homemade versions are toothpaste and deodorant. Plain baking soda works just fine as tooth cleanser, but you can get fancy with other ingredients if you want. Activated charcoal + baking soda + coconut oil + peppermint essential oil makes is a lovely recipe that gives you a legitimate paste rather than a powder. Deodorant is often extremely toxic as purchased in-store, so it's very important to chuck that stuff and make your own. Actually, Myer and I don't really use anything these days; if your diet is clean, you don't stink much! But there are fabulous versions you can mix up yourself if need be. Finally, for the ladies, I think it's worth mentioning "feminine care" in this post. The products provided to us for this need are so wasteful and often toxic--- it's sad how long it took me to find the right alternative. My mom used to make and wash her own, but I'm too lazy for that! However, natural sea sponges are a wonderful in-between answer. They are super easy to use and completely safe for you and the environment. I was enlightened! Tip: put a drop of tea tree oil on it before using. It helps with scent and to keep bad bacteria away.

Scents

I have a large collection of essential oils that I use in various ways. Mostly I put them on straight out of the bottle as natural perfume. I wear different ones according to my mood and the physical state of my body. If I'm feeling sluggish or weighty, frankincense, tea tree, pine, peppermint, citrus, eucalyptus, or myrrh are all uplifting/invigorating. For particularly stressful days, lavender, rose, jasmine or neroli help to relax me. When I'm extra energetic, I like something musky such as patchouli, amber, sandalwood, or vanilla. My favorite brand is Wyndmere, partially because the quality is very fine, and partly because they come in the most gorgeous little cobalt glass bottles. Besides perfume, these oils are also wonderful in candles, as aromatherapy, in other bath products, and just to sniff now and then. Rose is probably my all-time favorite; surprise surprise.