chewing chorizo

i enjoy a day that has at least one moment for simple food with clear flavors. hot gingery miso with wilted spinach, super rare thin sliced steak, brown rice, and a pinch of cayenne. Besides that chorizo i chewed on in the car on my way to get moses, it's all i had yesterday.. but it was all i needed- i went to bed thinking of that soup- and today too. went to bed thinking about alot of things actually-
like how big this time feels-about this new year coming- like this year that has passed.. i came into this year absolutely exhausted and was asleep on a concrete floor as friends around me counted down.. i feel like i have been dreaming all year, actually- trying so hard to manage everything while still realizing and trrying to meet my own needs.. there have been times this year when i thought i would go crazy with exhaustion- pushing myself to appreciate the littlest moments of joy that would suprise me and trying to flow through and work with the many moments that scared me. I am a single mother now.. i turned thirty this year..one of my best friends was diagnosed with brain cancer this year..i fell in love this year. i opened a business this year. i've worked nearly 3000 hours this year and served over 8000 meals.. i became an author this year...moved into my own apartment (my second ever..), and had $10,000 stolen this year.
wonder what this next year will have instore for me.. i want a home of my own- with a door on my bedroom- i want to be sourrounded by my success and celebrate the successess of my hard working and talented friends. i want music and good food, candles, and warmth. i want honesty and connection, peace and inspiration, and prosperity like good health and a full bank account. I want to work hard, and be met by others. I want time to slow down just a little bit so i can grab a moment to write more, see my friends more, and cook more, make love more, and travel to see my parents, sister, distant friends, and my grandmother more..

french onion soup

There are only a few things that i feel really good at. Cooking is one of them (and moving-i've done that alot), and sometimes it feels like the only thing i know how to do. I'm most comfortable working with food- and though i love driving, talking, and writing, it has been noted that these are not my most respected talents. I get to know people by what they love to eat- i mark moments with memories of meals- like raina the first time i ever made papooses in her little kitchen in burlington (she was so excited and so full of praise and enjoyment and she ate with concentrated pleasure), and my sister that time out on the hill that i forced her to eat a mock "chicken patty" and watched her take little bites while hiding her displeasure. (we argued the day by the camp fire, and i can remember everything about that moment, -even the mock patty, unfortunately). Today, while preparing huevos rancheros to share with the dishwasher, I realized that there are few meals that i've cooked purely for my own pleasure. Sure, I have my favorites- rare steak sliced really thin with salad and raw blue cheese; dumpling soup with miso, ginger and hot sesame oil; avocado salad with rare seared tuna; and french onion soup. I've thought before about it; when i am cooking for someone else, it's like reaching out to them- like saying "here, this is for you" and at the same time saying "thank you for this opportunity to connect with you"- what i get out of it is often abstract- i love working with food, i love being inspires, i love the chemistry of it all. Then there are times i have to cook for myself. I get hungry too- and when I cook for myself, I do so with a different kind of intimacy. It's like everything else gets kind of quiet, rather than tuning into what I know about food, or about the person I am cooking for, I turn inwards, and watch myself cook with a softness and ease that I have witnessed before. I know how to make soup, how to chop onions, how to smash garlic, i know how much garlic i like, i know how to tell how strong it is by how much oil is on the knife when i smash it, i know how much i like to eat, how much i can put on my plate and not ruin my taste for food completely. And I know what I like. I remember begging my mother to make eggplant parmigiana- it was my favorite, and I've always loved a juicy steak with salt and pepper (i did miss it during those vegan years though), and warm chocolate chip cookies (I LOVE THOSE!). During all of my different diet changes, I would always go through my favorite dishes first and try to re-create it with whatever limitations i was dealing with. Gluten free, vegan, whatever.. And I would do this FOR ME... French onion soup.. I have about 10 favorite versions of this one. When I was pregnant with fela I yearned for it and made my "quick version" often. Consisting of shitake mushroom broth, dark miso, and lots of balsamic caramelized onions, I would eat bowl fulls with home-made gluten free croutons topped with chevre. When I had more time I would prepare beef broth, caramelized red and white and gold onions, and bake individual bowls of the soup in the oven with toasted french spelt bread and an assortment of spicy red pepper sheep cheese, and goat's brie. I would bring these bowls to the oven and feel so excited and nurtured by just the aromas- then look at my partner and older child and see their ambivalent faces.. I dared not ask why, and let myself enjoy bowl after bowl...Finally, after years of this, damian admitted he didn't actually like french onion soup, and I subconsciously stopped making it all together...
Then we split up. I've done all this "work" to "move on" and try to put my life back together in some sort of way that feels something like a reflection of myself.. I began letting myself enjoy my own space, taking responsibility for the lack of contents in my fridge (for a cook, it is shockingly bare), and make my own schedule. Often, i dont even eat dinner- and it's liberating to not HAVE to cook for someone who depends on me to cook so much.. I allow myself simple meals, and often cook dishes that I want.
The first time I made french onion soup in my new apartment, I was thinking of my friend raina, who was in her 4th week of radiation. I used an organic beef bone and made a three day slow stock with coffee, red wine, beer, garlic, and salt from the Sahara desert. I wanted to make the stock really deep and dark, and full of marrow. I added several tablespoons of butter, and a sprig of thyme, and 4 whole onions as well as sever big cupfuls of caramelized onions. I went to burlington to see her, and left a jarful in her fridge, but could tell by the look on her face that she was a little overwhelmed (i brought mellow and comforting chicken broth the next week instead).. When I returned home I was upset and emotional about my having to leave her. i hadn't showered in 2 days, was still wearing my work clothes., and was exhausted. I let myself into my apartment and was greeted by the aromatic smells wafting out of the crockpot in my kitchen. I had left the soup on by accident in the crockpot, and my 3 day broth had turned into 4 day broth- Turned the broiler on, ladled some soup into a bowl, and when the dishwasher arrived, we sat to 2 bowls full of the best french onion soup ever topped with toasted french bread, blue cheese, and sharp vermont cheddar. I was enjoying the soup so much I just nodded when the dishwasher gave praises. Then she got another bowl.
-it was so unexpected. I mean, I know that we're all always looking for things like this, little signs that we are exactly where we are supposed to be, as if faith alone isnt enough, but when we get the signs it's so tempting to rejoice over them- forgetting all the other times we've been let down or have gone astray.... No one has ever loved french onion soup the way i do except my mother.. i dont even try to make it for friends anymore...except the dishwasher. I love that she loves it, it's so good- i love making the stock and watching the marrow dissolve out of the bone, i love tasting the stock every now and again and noting how the flavor changes, i love experimenting with different cheeses on top..tonight i make it again, hoping it will heal words spoken earlier, or my wordless exit- or the 12 hours she will work today singing another woman's vision. I want it to nurture us both, and know it will, and in the morning i will go my way and she will go hers.. i'm putting alot of faith into this soup right now- i want it for me, and i need it for me- and hopefully she'll sip it and taste that to- and maybe keep abit for herself. We all just want to be loved-dont we?
my horoscope says that i have to do work in the romantic loving department.. i didnt read relationships for dummies, but would the author approve of my french onion soup approach, because there are really only a few things i am really good at.

serve me as i serve you

in my restaurant it is a goal of mine to serve others as i would want to be served.. in my relationships it is the same...hard work deserves a mention. and deserves consistant followup--thats why its hard... am i alone here? i dont think so.

thought for a minute i could have it all.. maybe i could have all of my dreams come true at once..
utopia.
enlightenmnet.
joy.
any of those would do.
they all felt real.
now its 1 am and everone is alsleep. my phone is dead. roomservice is lame (can i cancel my order?) my bath is too hot. but i am clear (2 cocktails is not enough to phase me).
9 stories up watching it snow after 13 blocks of sleat and rain. where am i but here? not with her, just me, and a bath that is too hot.

thought we would treat ourselves to a day in montreal with food from the best places.. revisted zenya, good but not great (the tuna tartare was my fave and the avocado tempura roll slash shitake combo really really good). i wanted to keep going, wish we could have, wish it wasnt so late and i wasnt still hungry or didnt crave an adventure still.. but i still long to eat rare steak with a lover, bloddy juicy lips smiling--long for smokey mussels and tapas i will never remember the name of--want to go somehwere where the water glasses are always full and the the chef appreciates the perfection of applewood smoked salt and local organic produce- want to go from restaurant to restaurant where everyone just is so happy to serve me the most amazing food--and my dining partner is just as appreciative as i... is that too much to ask? at least could my roomservice arrive? my campanions are already asleep forgoing their fries and salad, and i am waiting for my chicken and bottled water (hotel sink water is really gross by the way), and i am alone in the bathroom thinking about all sorts of other places id like to be- like other worlds maybe- or in another body--and who am i to complain anyway? one of my best friends is asleep now after not sleeping for who knows how long after 6 weeks of chemo and radiation- ofter loosing all of her hair and facing brain cancer and steriods and brain surgery and single motherhood, and seizers, and , and, and..... here she is enjoying just a moment of sleep and all i can think about are the things i am missing (and yet secretly i am enjoying this misery....who am I here?)

can i get in my bath now? how many turkeys are in bathtubs right now thawing for their ineviatable fate awaiting them tomorrow? can i avoid roomservice (i've lost my appetite anyway)-what do i do if they knock on the door? can i not answer? i dont need factory chicken anyway.....

doin it with the dishwasher

more to come

ill come runnin 2 see you again

winter spring or fall
mygirl loves long walks at night, tequila, lime and polenta con ouvi.....and me.... she loves yellow and cobolt blue and water...
she is the medecine ive longed for for so long now..
groovy little thing that i love to hear...
put my heart in motion whenever she gets a notion..
yes, i'm inlove..
didint htinkit wold happen, and i feel so protective of it, like my love for sausage, and my love for nina simone, and my love for pickles and mustard...

grilled pork with salt and pepper

i've been feeling undercurrents of anxiety for a while now---how long? i dont know, maybe since i was 9 or 10, maybe longer. I used to have these dreams with a man and a woman arguing, only they never raised their voices, it was like monotone arguments, and i couldnt understand their words. I remember my bedroom in corinth- i want to go there these days to revisit, stand in that room where all of this started, i remember my bed, my window looking across to the barn, the smells from the kitchen underneath. These dreams where very frequent, i even had them in college, and the voices were so familiar and so irritating, i would always wake in a sweat and feel so---anxious... the woman's voice drove me especially crazy- in my sleep, i would strain to understand her- but the words would all blend together- something about not being enough- dissapointment--letting go---and for some reason it was understood that they were talking about me..
lately i have been so rocked.
i havent had these dreams in a while, but i can hear the voices anyway. WHO am I? Crystal? that picture of me in the paper scared me last week because (though I SHOULD have felt pride) i looked at it and was frightened.. I felt so completely unattracted to myself.. THe days are flying by.. whre did september go? suddenly it is lindsay's birthday- usually sucha huge event for me- and i am working all day and scrambling to get there to just cook her something.. She has had candida for a month or two, and she and her daughter have been on super restricted diets- i once shred that space, and with hesitation I grab things to bring to cook for her. She eats meat now (recently in the last year) and so i grab the last of the country style ribs from the freezer. I grab hummus, a big bag of salad greens, and fela's concoction of tomatoes.. WE gather, laugh and i even shed tears privatly over te kitchen sink, and then it isnt until today that I realize that we never even sang her happy birthday, nor did she blow out candles... Maybe we were all avoiding cake, but come-on! we could have at least brought a candle! and then I think, ok tomorrow I will bring a candle, and then I wonder, HOW? WHEN? each day is so overwhelmingly full and overflowing...
Today i talked alot about my frustrations.. Easy when it feels as big as it does now, and with blood so ready between my legs, and pain in my belly, i feel like i owe it to myself to indulge.. hearing my words today scared me.. she told me "have faith", and my reaction felt so huge and painful too.. "i do" i thought..more than you know.. Life seems like this huge and perpetual paradox right now..trusting me. lets look closer now,...

in my mind i wonder what i will make for breakfast for my boys.. will there be time for eggs? or will we skip it all together?
in my mind i am planning the morning, the week, the month, the year, the life ahead of me.. and within it i am pulled and pushed by the waves of anxiety and faith alike..
i crave meat now.. grilled pork chops with salt and pepper- i want a baked potato with loads of fresh butter and sea salt. I crave togetherness like i've had before--why does cooking food for one seem so much less apealing than cooking for others?
i fear seeming needy-and yet we're all needy -that's real..

stuffed tomatoes and bacon

laying in bed this morning thinking about it= ive worked nearly 75 hours this week, ive ehardly seem ,my children, amd i'm hungry- reallt really hungry. i thought asbout rare burgers- lamb with yogurt, ripe melon, salad with avocado. i thought about cooking outside, i thought about all the picnincs ive ever had, and about all the ones i want to have. im hungry for the ocean, i'm hungrey for soft kisses and strawberries with fresh morning swim. I'm hungry for salty ceaser salad, hungry for my mom, for her back deck, for the metal scu;ptures my dad grows. amd i'm hungry hungry for the woods- for the trees the colored leaves on the ground- for the smoke from a fire. I'm hungry for a wool blanket wrapped around me- hungry for my girl- for our one-day- for the home that she will fill with music and i will fill with the smells of garlic and exotic worldly spices ive not even heard of yet.. i'm hungry-and so tired and so pulled by thoughts of bacon in the fridge downstairs- and so i pull myself out and in and up and over to the table to let juicy tomatoes fill my mouth.

red lentils

sundays at the restaurant are long and busy. Eggs benedict, crepes with braised chicken, pea sprouts and lemon cream, yogurt and granola..ham..bacon..smoked tempeh... Then suddenly we all pull it together and close up for the "weekend", and head home. Today I came home to my children and their insatiable hunger for me. I opened my fridge and, staring at the leftovers sitting in the fridge from last week's meals, wondered from which part of me i would create yet another meal.. Something comforting, something easy, something they would eat. I called them to the table and they each stared at their bowls with dissatisfied faces. Between forcing forkfuls of soft red lentils into their mouths I threaten to not give them dessert, and listen to their stories. Fela (he's three) tells me over and over again how "papa makes this at his house" and moses (he's eight) tells me with great annimation about his trip to lego land this summer and begs me to let him draw me a diagram of the rollercoasters he rode there. I half listen to both of them, i'm tire, and the red lentils feel like heavy down comforters wrapped around me, and i am fighting falling asleep. We finish and rush through 15 minutes of pajamas, teeth brushing, and negotiations about how many books we'll read, and i lay down to start with Brown Bear Brown Bear, mid-way through realizing that i'm much closer to sleep than they are. We finish our agreed readings and after kisses (many many many kisses) and glasses of water and more kisses, i shut off the light and find myself standing in the center of my kitchen staring at the stove. It looks like a place i've been before but remember being grander and feeling much more connected to. I notice that the wall above the sink looks lonely- sad and lonely- or is it me? Suddenly I'm opperating myself into the bathroom, noticing that we're out of toilet paper (i guess being the only woman in the house deams me responcible for keeping us stocked on this item), and i contemplate my new roomate. After nearly two years and the busiest summer i can remember, fin has returned to see moses. His poor planning and my new apartment have united and now my ex-husband fills my apartment with the smell of burnt salmon and sounds of australia. My toilet paper is gone and in my fridge (next to his left-over salmon jerky) is a bowl of red lentils and rice that i left for him.

just like tom thumb

when youre down in the city and its autumn too, and your gravity fails, and your negativity dont pull you through:
dont put on any airs,
theres some hungry women down there...
i cannot move, and my fingers are all in a knot...
and my best friend...her doctor wont even say what it is that she's got...


i speak good english..



let's shake hands, just come to me real soon...we'll tke our voices and howl at the moon.,,,,..



on this hill.. not what they claim...

paradox

Sitting thinking about this day…I’m ok..
Right.
Filo parcels and deals made concerning spanikopita, rabbit confit, and little sandwiches with heirloom tomatoes and what-not. Scrub dishes and sell 2$ cups of coffee.. Crepes with braised chicken and lemon infused cream, splashes of basil oil and the tiniest micro sprouts.. My life is so rich and full and gorgeous…at work I am like a little cages kitchen bird, safe behind the counter and my apron playing with food, finding fantastic colors and connecting simple flavors like a painter or like a musician- then as 3 oclock comes closer I anticipate the rest of my day and try to prepare myself for the outside world.. I am so comfortable in the kitchen, everyone and everything almost always comes together in harmony--outside I feel lost and small and like the fragile little girl I a have always been.. I come home and take stock of my fridge to cook the most important and intimate meal of the day- dinner for my family-- I stare at the items and grab the chorizo- little slice by little slice with big swallows of beer and two hours go by-- months have gone by-- big hard months- and I wonder how I ever used to feed myself.. I cook all day from this place of love and inspiration to connect and express myself to other people, then when I am alone, I stare at myself, looking, searching, feeling inlove and afraid at the same time- idont need anything, I think sometimes, and then suddenly I am so needy and feel like I have nothing…. I know these paradoxes, I ve lived between these boxes before.. Gemini.. Traveler… lover… warrior… mother…. They are all one and they all compete with each other at the same time… feel trapped.. Trapped by spanikopita and wilted salad greens and school lunches, and dinner, and black beans going bad in the fridge, and ex-partners, partners, neighbors, parents, expectations, devistations, and the constant hunger that rocks me.. I will rise tomorrow and make granola with rice milk and sprinkle on bee pollen and think about how it is possible to travel great big distances just for the queen… all for the queen.


i started today with toast and sausage for the others and with the fire alarm ringing, i woke everyone and hustled out the door.. moses missed his bus, fela couldn't find his shoes, and sara hid under the covers until we all left.. alexis was late for work so i brought the kids in and opened up- thinking, this is it, this is my life, i do this now.. and it was like the kids Knew that too.. I steamed some unsweetened soy0milk, made it all frothy and foamy, sprinkled on some cinnamon and just a drizzle of maple chocolate syrup and set them at a table while i made cofee and light of this bizzare morning.. and the thing is, is that every morning for the last 9 months has been bizzarre.. I dont even remember how the mornings used to be-- i would try and sleep asa much as i could, make breakfast for everyone and endure every-ones bad moods then send them out the door, or hide in bed as long as i could pretending not to be disturbed by their many tiny little dramas.. then my day would really begin after they had left and me and the baby would giggle and clean up after everyone and go for a big walk.. then when we opened kismet i used to get up at 4 am and go cook for the restaurant, ge back home and get everyone fed and dresse at 7 am and out the door to school, then i'd return to work to open... i'd leave alanna to scrub the floor at 4 or 5 and go home to cook dinner and fold laundrey and do homework and all of that.. I remember when spring came i was so hungry for a good dance and some good tequila and meal cooked by someone else that i felt like i could jump out of my skin.. started fantisizing about my own little life.. and now.. here it is.. the days still fly by and how different are things than before?

settling down from three months of transition.. finding myself again..getting grounded.. wish i had the skills to type as fast as i think, to write about it all, put it all together.. since our last wedding i've been trying to collect myself.. august was terrible.. and wonderful. i fell in love again and then there was that tornado i got caught in.... grilled lots of lamb in august.. mint and basil and smoked paprika and lemon zest in august.. lots of yummy yummy love in august.. then there was the move.. i tried to paint my room as fast as i could and move in real quick like before MOSES came back and tried to be as present as a i could when my dad came... hadnt seen him in a year and wanted to feed him.. had fantasies of these amazing meals i would cook for him and how we would connect, but as it was i was so busy and even when he came into the restaurant he seemed out of place and i wanted to serve him but still dont know how.. and i was sooooo busy.. then he left in the middle of the night and though we had a great night out once when he was here it still felt so charged and scary thoughts kept coming like... when will we do this again... do you see me... and....all that..
since the last wedding ( a real big one) and all those 16 hour days, i have tried to put myself together and with as much patience i have, have tried to let the lightest parts of me shine.. i want to talk about this for a minute.. it is so easy to be negative. little words(ughhhh, damn it), looks (eyebrows up, eyes wide), gestures (slamming things), moments (discomfort). So, i came into work last week and decided that no matter what i would rise and be good to myself- and those around me.. each day i have been able to find something to be in love with, and though it feels so good, it also feels like i am tripping out on something dangerous... have i ever challenged myself this way before? soberly? and then its like all day i just watch myself.. chop basil, make salad with little peaks of red grated beets beneath crisp orange carrot.. i sprinkle on those roasted tamari sunflower seeds and just let the simple perfection of it resonate like a bell.. then i turn real quick, grab the next plate and top toast with chevre and hand churned butter with the freshest most local eggs perfectly poached and drizzle on my own hollendaise sauce and the right amount of black pepper. i throw on a scant few pea greens and send that out too ... bing...another bell.. i almost dont even care if anyone really likes it.. as long as enough people come in so i can keep going because i am making music for my self.... my self... how long have i waited for this? how long will i deny myself from more??? learning boundaries... learning how to stop.. how to eat..hoe to let it all come together.. god i love my life when i let myself love it...wanna reach out and grab onto these people around me and bleed my thanks into them.. then again its also so easy to be frustrated.. is this enough, am i enough, look at how exposed i am....

so much of my life has been about food... food and love.. food and family... what about when things get tricky? food is scarce or family is broken.. I remember traveling in australia and being so freaked out by the food systems there.. yes there were big buckets of organic wild passion fruit and melons bigger than my big pregnant belly, but in the grocery store i was forced to navigate my through numbers and letters and ingredients so foreign.. I didnt want to eat there.. then there is now, when in my alone time i am so uninspired to eat.. i haven't gone grocery shopping for myself yet.. maybe ever. I've always had someone else to cook for.. my sister, my Friends, my partners.. maybe i opened kismet so that i could always have food around me and always be cooking for others.. lately i want to change the menu and make crazy cool dishes.. i want to wow everyone and feel myself holding back.. I want to make little tiny bowls of french onion soup and follow them up with little mini fillet Mignon and Bearnaise sauce and tiny green beans, then follow that with little chocolate spice cakes with maple ice cream with drizzles of maple caramel... i want to serve a million little tiny dishes.. and yet i know that in this small working town everyone just wants to get the best bargain for their money, they want to be fed, and yet feel like it is food that is only just beyond what they would get somewhere else and yet still compliments what they themselves would make.. I take so much pride in sourcing our ingredients, pride in my relationship with food.. and still i am so often doubtful....why... why am i always hungry for more.. will i ever settle in? I eat bison burgers with roasted garlic and seared onions and big bright piles of kale with just a bit of raw cheddar just so i might feel a little bit stronger.. i crave pudding and cake and chocolate.. i eat bacon with really ripe tomatoes...i crave deep true full real romantic partnership..i welcome momentary companionship and all of this heightens my awareness for the member gold pure honeys of life--like that that i saw flow from the hive in Mississippi, and that i knew once...right?? or did i?

love and food.. I want to find the connection for me..

I remember my first midwife saying that when my mouth was realized and open that my birth canal would be open too.. i wonder why.. why when we kiss does my heart rush like a water fall, and between my legs feel moist with wanting?? what about when we eat food with full appreciation and savor? Are we more open to the love of this earth? If we eat sweet salty oysters, slippery little spicy bits following, are we also gently opening..? Does good food inspire love? where does this put me?

we say goodbye

sometimes saying yes is easy-
yes, i'll be there- yes, i can---but saying goodbye is always so hard- like taking big steps into the next unknown moment with a big raw open heart, i do this now... goodbye twenties--goodbye sunny day swimming in the pond--goodbye house in the woods--goodbye expectations-goodbye all sense of security... And with little weezy breaths i get pulled into each now as if i have no choice..time happens so fast now- seems like there are so many people I have lost touch with; if only i had known when we last were together- seems like there is so much still wide open and calling to me from my past, and yet the future too is all ablaze with the moaning of things to tend to.
When i left my partner of 4 years a few months ago i did so with fierce bravery and sureness.. I wanted the fights to end and didnt trust we could end them together..wanted so many things that i didnt trust i could get there.. not trusting, and trusting at the same time--trusting that leaving was the right thing to do- trust in knowing that the fights were too big, trust that things would be better...and they were.. and they are (?)(?)(?)...
right now i sit in the midst of flowers that are not mine, smelling smells that bring me back to places i long to visit agian- California as child with my grandmother and her quoy fish and ripe melons we would eat with dinner, California not so long ago-working so hard and being so hot with children in tow- but there was vanessa and sita to celebrate the joys with and dance with and cook fried beets with- new zealand and the many places i love there, the simple quinoa dinners adam and i would share in the garden, the asparagus and tahini-ginger dinners lindsay and i would giggle over, the bread i would bake at arahanui.. and mississippi too- all thick and full and deep and calling to me like a ghost. I know nothing but memories lay there, and yet i am there now too, 15 and alone on the streets looking for love and breathing in the smell of fried chicken and pork barbeque.. I am here longing as i've longed so many times before- not knowing still how to fullfill myself..i work with anxious rhythm, i love with unstoppable force and devotion, i sit, i walk, i read, and still i yearn for something that is always just beyond my reach..

forever i have wanted a restaurant..i have wanted to be published. i have wanted my own place in vermont. and now i have all of this and more..2 kids. fancy car with dark windows.. sunny summer days.. friends..health..and..........this..this deep deep feeling of fear.

i am right here, smelling the past as if it clings to my nose; writing to myself as if it could ease me, drinking beer and eating popcorn covered in sheeps cheese and pepper, breathing in smoke and roasting in the fire of my anxiety..i am waiting for someone and i hate that..when i know that it is me i am waiting for..

then..new day

so much stress..not feeling like i am enough.. missing my children and needing space at the same time.. fearing the future, unsettled with the past, angry at myself, in awe of myself, and not knowing how to communicate, ALL AT ONCE..

she says: "you are doing do much"

i say "yes, but nothing very well.."

she says : "yes you are doing well"

I say (with force and meaning) : " NO I'M NOT"

then...

like predicted

i stick the knife in deeper because it seems like i just cant even help myself..

emergancy room.

stupid hole in my hand from cutting an avocado...

wounds so real and here, in my hand...in my hand..

now i have something to work with, i suppose...something to focus on that really IS all about me..but pain is so liquid and overflows into everything..looking back i'm sure i'll see it more clearly.

chewing steak outside by the fire- i know that if i chew slowly it will bring me strength- i am so completely here i feel stuck sometimes, and though--where am I? three months ago i longed for space- a seperate life and privacy..now i have this dream and because i am dreaming i can't live it??

we said i love you

as my thirtieth birthday came near (ok, it was still 3 months away) i began thinking alot about my life. Like everyone i've spoken to about it, it was like getting ready for a big transition- i couldn't stop thinking about my 20's, how they were over, and about the expectations i had been putting on myself about growing up.. Looking back, my twenties seemed so full- I got pregnant just three months after my 21st birthday to a new zealander after my first trip there, and spent the earlier part of my twenties coping and recovering from that. When I turned twenty five I made big changes- left the new zealander, became a single mother and moved back to new zealand leaving my home friends and family in vermont. After being in new zealand long enough to trully and really miss vermont, i returned and spent the next bit of time re-inventing myself. Who was I trying to be? where was I going? Just as i began i to contemplate the perplexities of my situation, accepting the discomfort of my really big mistakes, and at the same time enjoying my son and his little steps towards Independence, i went form one to another to another and conceived again-

this time with an artist who lead me to california to birth, and become mom again.

During this time of my mother dance, i couldn't help but feel urgency welling up inside of me. something was missing- something was missing- and when i looked, i realized--

it was me.

Again- big questions...who am I? what do I do? so busy with millions of little mundane tasks in a world of war and poverty, carrying my own wounds and worries, i rose with my children to my obligations to show them the light of the world. How long could i do this when my own light inside was muddled and distant?

With two children in tow i went to work finding myself...where was my passion? what was something I was really good at? What did i like to do? Seems funny now- but after nearly 6 years of taking care of other people's needs first, I felt so far from knowing my own self. I started reading- reading anything and everything- i went back to school, i started writing again, and then, I started watching myself making more room for me- slowly, haphazardly, and without organization, i started tearing little holes into the seams of the days to make ore time for things I really likes---picking flowers, reading cookbooks, going to the beach, drinking beer, watching cheesy romances, reading teenage fiction, making movies, dancing naked in the middle of the night in ly kitchen, and cooking with curioustiy and force. I indulged myself by meeting all the farmers at the farmers mrket and taking their experimental crops home with me to create new recipes, I found a bar that had organic beer and and a child friendly happy hour, I videotaped myself walking, driving, waching dishes, and dancing..When the choice came to return to vermont or stay in california, i painfully told my partner I had to go- that i couldn't stay there anymore- it was time for me to return to vermont and for me to take the next steps in rediscovering me. We returned- me with bright excitement and adoration, him with dark clouds of regret and anxiety. We faught crazy fights and threatened to hurt eachother, we invoked panic within eachother, and stirred eachother up in ways that would take years to mend. I would distract myself though- as i am so good at doing- from the death that was awaiting, by working on things that were mine..that little cookbook i started in california because I was bored and needing a creative outlet became a 100 page manuscript and when we would fight or things would get dark, i would reach for it and work on it, or force myself to send it our to yet another publisher. When the publisher responded i knew that i had created this little hole in my world into which i could slip into another. I knew that this was going to be my way out.. out of what? out of old patterns, out of the regret of having not finished anything before, out of my insecurity that i had no talent-out of my nothingness and into somethingness..For the next year finishing and editing that book was what kept me alive after each fight- and each fight pushed me further to finish, and at the same time I was just barely holding on- and felt so mush like I was just flinging myself out into shark laden waters- or an abyss of falure. I worked into the hours of the morning, made my children watch tv on sunny days so I could work, and made hotdogs and pasta salad a few too many times to ever really feel good about..Then I had an opportunity to buy a restaurant and so I took that on too- so that each time a fight arose or i started to sink into my who am i mode, I would just get up and start working harder. Pushing pushing pushing as if i was birthing and being born at the same time. The last three years have been a blur. And it was just a few months ago that (during a bout of pnemonia) i stopped pushing quite so hard and started to look around.. What of this would I want to do again? what of this do I regret? what do I really really want? Then, while rolling basil leaves and slicing them paper thin, the knife would go in slow motion, and the colors all illuminated, and like amber so clear and golden, i would hear my own voice asking for specific things... a penthouse in tokyo...a bath and a filet mignon and buttery potatos... to dance all night with lime on my lips..