So, a few months ago I wrote this entry about CSAs and how annoyed I was that the Washington Post Express chose to quote this entry about CSAs when they hadn't posted anything prior and why are they raining on my parade, wah wah wah.

And then, this week, the food section ran an article about CSAs - one of the writers wrote about her experiences with a CSA (she's about halfway through the season). Hooray! Visibility increases interest in the movement, which leads to more people getting food from CSAs which leads to more CSAs! Support for the small farmer. Then the author said that she was worried about the amount of food she was going to get... "And canning like a 1950s housewife? Not an option."

I'd go into a big long 'in defense of preserving your own food, you condescending prick' rant, except that I really don't feel the need to. I started a whole big 'opting out of corporate food' rant yesterday and didn't finish it because I got distracted and didn't want to, but it boils down to this. I know exactly what is in my canned goods. I know how they were made, where they were made, when the food was picked, if the workers were paid a fair wage, the number of food miles involved, how clean the kitchen was. Can you say that about your food?

Shortly before the knitting craze became mainstream, this is how people talked about it. It was something old ladies did. The fact that there were people writing blogs about it on the internet and pulling in two million viewers per page was just silly. Sewing your own clothes is something quaint or done (poorly) by wanna-be teenage fashion designers. Canning's just something my aunt does every summer when she makes jam to give to people. It's too much effort. It couldn't possibly have an impact on how I could live my life.

Knitting, sewing, CSAs, canning - it's all becoming part of the DIY movement that's been slowly taking root in America. I actually really hate the term DIY, I think it comes from seeing 'IY' as part of a word, terrible spelling, gah! But the root of it is about opting out. By growing your food and putting it up for the winter, you're opting out of corporate culture. By buying tomatoes from the farmer's market in July instead of the ones from Chile in the grocery store, you're opting out of this screwed up philosophy of food that's becoming more and more prevalent. By sewing your own clothes, you're opting out of the fashion world's ideas about size and the values added to it. I read an article in the Washington Post about a woman who's dying slowly and horribly after eating a few spoonfuls of Nestle cookie dough. It's tragic and it's awful and they still don't know how the food got tainted with E. coli. You can't read that and tell me there's not something fucked up with our food system.

The joy of opting out is that you can occasionally opt in. If you know me, you know I love a Wendy's burger now and then. Or potato chips or store bought ice cream. My wardrobe is almost entirely Old Navy and Target (I'm not very good at sewing clothes). There's also a big difference for those who opt out of the food culture by choice or values or those who have to opt out due to food allergies. Don't put me in the same box as those with Celiac's or vice versa. I may choose to make my own bread, but if I want to, I can buy a loaf at the store that uses high fructose corn syrup as a starter. I know several people who can't. As another side note, it's a further example of our society's disconnection from food that everyone complains that there's sugar or high fructose corn syrup in bread they buy at the store. Can you believe it? Sugar! In bread! Have you ever made bread? Most recipes call for some kind of sugar because it activates the yeast in bread and feeds its growth! Most storebought loaves use HFCS as a starter because it's cheap and readily available.

(Side 'headdesk' note: Most of the pickled peaches and peach salsa I canned? I forgot to add lemon juice/citric acid to preserve the food and keep it fresh. Rookie mistake. Not sure if it'll be fine as is, if I need to repack and recan everything or if I need to throw it all out and start again. Sigh. #canningfail)

(Other side note: The WaPo Express actually offends me fairly frequently. Their snarky headlines and 'oh lulz' stories occasionally make fun of paganism and they tend to fall on the more conservative side in their reporting. Apparently I only really get riled up when it comes to food, though)

(Final side note: I have somehow ended up writing the rant I didn't mean to write. Oh well)

So, I'm a little annoyed. The Washington Post Express chose to quote this entry from Donna Says in their Blog Log today. I'm annoyed for several reasons.

1) This is the first thing I've ever seen them post about CSAs and it's not positive. Way to be discouraging. (Also, way to get the day wrong. If she posts on Wednesday that last night's pick up was a bust, her pickup was Tuesday) How about reporting on this trend in a positive light, rather than talking about Lisa Rinna's new book?

2) Inferring from this post and the fact that she had a Tuesday night DC pickup and got seedlings, I am assuming that Donna Says is a member of my CSA, Bull Run Farm. Which had more than just seedlings and herbs on Tuesday - they also had Chinese cabbage, pak choi, garlic scapes, fresh oregano, salad mix and the first of the year pickup totebag. I dunno, maybe they were all out of all of that when she went to pick up, but they had plenty when I was there at 6:30. Not liking something and choosing not to pick it up is different from not having a variety of things. I'm not a huge fan of the mustard greens that are offered, but if I hadn't picked up things I didn't like, I wouldn't have my love affair with beets, sweet potatoes, radishes and vegetables in general because I had no choice but to try it and discovered that my tastes have changed. I paid for these two beets/pak choi/eggplant, they're there, let's cook with it (and it's usually delicious) (though I still don't really like eggplant).

3) Continuing my assumption that Donna is a Bull Run Farm member, that means that she gets the newsletter from Leigh, our farmer. This week's newsletter pretty clearly states that due to the insane weather of the past 4 months, Leigh's had to plant and replant the seedlings, so veggies will be later than normal this year. Granted, Leigh's newsletters tend to be practically novellas, so I can see how she might have skipped over that, but she also gets an email the day before with the vegetables that are going to be available. My guess is that her 'what I'm expecting' post is based off of this page, which is a guideline, not a guarantee.

4) You bought a share of a farm. Farms output varies from year to year and is affected by things like weather, global warming, deer infestations, the eleventybillion thunderstorms that have rolled through in the past two weeks. And yet we expect shiny, pristine vegetables and an abundance of them, regardless of the rain, the years-long drought, the heat. The attitude to keep in mind with Leigh's CSA is that you get whatever's ready to be harvested that day. And that's pretty freaking awesome. The variety's not going to be as good as a farmer's market because a farmer's market can have multiple vendors.

I'm sorry Donna Says was disappointed in what she got this week. I certainly understand it and I'm not trying to invalidate her feelings or anything like that. For this CSA, June usually is a leaner month, with the bounty really picking up in July (also when the fruit share kicks in, if she bought that. NOM) and carrying through until September/October. We all have weeks where we're disappointed with our pickup and I'm still trying to figure out a way to eat the salad greens I get without buying a salad spinner. Despite the rant, I don't have a problem with her expressing her opinions on her blog. Hell, that's what blogs are for.

I'm just pissed off with the Express for quoting the blog post. I don't mind the political, pop culture, local flavor or the sports commentary, but it feels kind of like they're taking a potshot at something I love and that's what is annoying me so much. Can't we just go back to making fun of Marion Barry and quoting monkeyrotica's comments on DCist? (I'm debating writing them a letter about this, but I doubt it'll do much good)

Now, if you excuse me, I need to make some granola, douse myself in patchouli oil, wander around my office barefoot and hug a tree.

(still haven't figured out what kind of fruit trees are in front of work and if I can steal the plums? when they're ripe)

(I'm actually really excited about the seedlings I got from my CSA and purchased pots and potting soil. They're currently sitting on my bedroom windowsill and I'm really hoping I won't kill them this year)

Dear H&M,

I officially hate you. I was totally feeling the love - you've got cute clothes at great prices. Then we went to your store at Tyson's Corner on Sunday, only to find out that everything ugly about the 60's had gone there to die. Yuck. Who really looks good in your orange, psychadelic print long sleeve babydoll dresses? I still managed to find a cute off-white shirt dress, something that I've been wanting, but your refusal to line dresses meant that all of my goods were on display and if I wanted to wear this out in public, I'd have to wear a full slip, something I don't actually own. This also negates the purpose of wearing a lightweight dress in the midst of the DC humidity in the summer. You're based in Sweden, maybe you don't know about these things.

Still determined to find a lovely, inexpensive dress for my upcoming wedding, I ran to your downtown DC location on my lunch break. Maybe you haven't gotten a shipment in a while and that's why it looks like the store had imploded on itself. Maybe it was the lunch rush. Maybe the rest of DC was anxious to wear those Madonna designed fugs you've been hawking on the pages of the Express and the store was just picked over. The stylish wrap dresses that are your staple were conspicuously absent. I don't know. I do know that I managed to find a few more cute things, in the sizes I couldn't find on Sunday and was eager to try them on in the fitting room. Hell, I didn't even mind waiting 20 minutes to get into the damn thing.

But, H&M, what happened? That cute diagonal striped skirt that was a scoch too small in 14 was horrendous on me in your 16. The exact same cute shirt dress (in a different color) showed off every unattractive curve in 14. Same for the all polyesther faux wrap thing. It was surprising that I managed to find these dresses in 14 and I knew that you wouldn't have them in 16 or gods forbid 18s that might actually look flattering on me. So, I left, filled with rage, having to walk through crowds of tourists trying to look at Ford's theater and go back to work and thinking that I should have bought that dress on Sunday, but also thinking that I never want to give you money again.

H&M, what is so wrong about my body that you won't cut clothes to fit it? Why do your tops always have sleeves that feel like bloodpressure cuffs? Why is my one cute jacket from you a size 16, when at any other store it would be a 12? Why do your clothes aimed for young people not go above a size 12? Why do you not want my money and the money of the millions of other slightly larger women who want attractive clothes at reasonable prices? The average American woman is a size 14. Did you not get that memo? I'm tired of going to a store and thinking 'what's wrong with me that I can't fit into these clothes?' Now I ask, H&M, what's wrong with you?

I resent that if I want cute clothes I'm either going to have to make them or go to one of your competitors who will overcharge me. Sure, their clothes will be better made and probably last longer, but I don't have the money to spend or the inclination to look. I can't afford Lane Bryant and their tops are too big for me anyway.

I'm sick of being in the middle, of being too fat for fashion and too skinny for the plus sizes. So, H&M, thanks for reminding me that I don't matter. That to the eyes of clothes manufacturing America, I'm invisible. I wasn't really using my self esteem today anyway.

Fuck you very much,
Christina

PS - I might also just be grumpy because my sandals have given me 5 blisters in 3 hours, but still, this sucks.

via gilneas

A Fat Rant by Joy Nash. Extremely well done and generally awesome. As for me, I just need to stop making excuses.

(via pup212)

You probably never thought of this, but women's shelters in the U.S.go through thousands of tampons and pads monthly. Assistance agencies generally help with expenses of "everyday" necessities such as toilet paper, diapers, and clothing, but one of the most BASIC needs isoverlooked - feminine hygiene products. (That tells me men are at the helm of the funding assistance agencies!)

SeventhGeneration, a green paper products and cleaning products company, has a do-good attitude and will donate a box of sanitary products to awomen's shelter in your chosen state - just for clicking the link. Talk about easy (and, yes, it is legitimate)!

Click here!

In other, completely unrelated news, I got the Dreyer's American Idol Hollywood Cheesecake ice cream and it is THE BEST THING EVER. Sorry, stentoriansista, I'm leaving you for frozen tasty treats.

The latest in military discrimination against Wicca - again, legal, but obvious discrimination. For fuck's sake, these people fight and die for our country, why can't you honor their religious choices?! Just because some of our members are not on this normal does not mean the whole religion is invalid.

I wish someone would write off Christianity because they eat human flesh and drink blood every Sunday.

So, I just reread Dangerous Angels by Francesca Lia Block. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it - it's a series of short novels all centered around Weetzie Bat, a young filmmaker in LA, compressed into a larger book. It's a series of lovely, romantic, lyrical books that combine magical realism with the pain of real life and they're just fucking beautiful.

Reading them always makes me a little sad. The characters are startlingly real and harsh in their emotions, but that's not what always gives me a little pang of regret when I read them. The characters have their flaws, their problems, their magic... and there's something about them that I know I can never be. They're all beautiful, mysterious and skinny.

Now, the GF constantly reassures me that I'm pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, stunning. I give her orgasms. It's part of the deal. And while I'm a lovely person, silly and (hopefully) funny and witty, I'm certainly not mysterious. Hell, I wouldn't have a livejournal if I wanted that. Reading descriptions of these magical vegetarians who are always eating and who are always skin and bones, I know it's something I could never be. I don't know, even if I get myself down to a size 8, which I know will never happen (at least, not healthily), I'm sure I'll still think of myself of fat and unworthy of anyone's affection.

And magic? For some reason, I've always known that's for someone that's never worn pants in my size. Maybe it's because of things like the ridiculous wife prancing around in fairy wings on Wife Swap the other week, or because the most ridiculous pagans I've met have always been large, or because the most compelling ones have always had dress sizes in the single digits, or even shit like Practical Magic but I've always had this thought in the back of my head that the reason that I've never had the Profound Mystical Experience I keep expecting to happen is due to my waist.

Which is not to say that I devalue my religion or that it devalues me or that I hate myself because of my size. I've been having issues the whole pagan thing because I've been unwilling to spend the time to focus on it... which reminds me that I had a really powerful dream on Thursday that I need to recap. I prided myself so much on being "special" when I was younger... I was smart, I was a writer, I was going to Mean Something to the world. And then I grew up a bit and I realized that yes, I'm smart, but everyone seems to be much smarter, I'm a good writer, but not when compared to the professional writing world and the things that I love are conventional and not Meaningful and I'm not changing the world the way I was so sure I'd do. In other words, I'm having a huge Avenue Q moment.

It just makes me sad to reread these books that have these beautiful, powerful heroines who overcome adverse odds and make their own magic and think that that's a kind of magic that I will never have, because I'm not one of the beautiful people. The world doesn't sit up and take notice you if you're a size 14 the way it does if you look like a supermodel. Not when Norbit makes the most money at the box office and Tyra Banks is attacked for gaining 30 pounds. I'm never going to be one of the special, beautiful, magical people. It's hard to love yourself when the world refuses to even recognize yourself as a person, sometimes. I try to pretend that it doesn't bother me, but it does.

I am pro-choice.

At this stage of my life, I would not be comfortable taking on a cat, much less a human being. Should I somehow get pregnant, I don't know if I could carry to term and then give up a child and I certainly couldn't raise one now. I live in a windowless basement, for pete's sake. But not to turn childfree, I am pro-choice because my body is my own and no one should force me to do something I don't want to do.

I'm a big fan of the "keep abortion safe, legal and rare" slogan. Because what does it say about society that we don't allow women the right to think for themselves? That we support the rights of a fetus but don't care about it once it's born?

DC is seeing it's first real snow - about two inches worth. Walking home from work made me start thinking about what snow is and what snow means to a city dweller. So, here it is.

Snow is patience. Snow means not jaywalking, driving slowly and carefully, standing (to the right) on the metro escalators. A friend slipped and fell on the L'Enfant plaza escalators and broke her tailbone. Walking slowly to and waiting longer for more crowded trains.

Snow is silence. The city shuts down almost entirely, streets empty, sidewalks open, only the folks hurrying home. You walk differently in the snow further back on the heel, short, stuttering steps.

Snow is cold. The gloves left at home, the too-thin shirt, because, hey, it wasn't that cold this morning. Shivering. Red cheeks and noses. Breath steaming in the air. Fingers that take too long to warm up. Longing for tea. Snow is also cozy... bundling up with a blanket, a book, cocoa and watch it fall.

Snow is mass insanity. School may be closed tomorrow and the government may shut down because maybe three inches have fallen. Grocery stores are almost certainly out of bread, milk, toilet paper and beer. Top story on the news will almost certainly be snow. Frozen water falling from the sky! How to protect yourself from this deadly menace! Tonight at ten! It's amazing to me that a town supposedly full of some of America's smartest people goes crazy at the sight of snow.

Snow is fun. Snowballs, snowmen, snow angels, sledding on those plastic circle things. Every day I pass the Masonic Temple when I walk to work and on snowy Sundays I can see kids sledding down, purple snowsuits, pink hats. It makes me wish I could join them instead of going to work.

Snow is beauty. The world is hushed, still and white. You can see the steps of everyone who has come before you, the outline of every plant, grating. The sound of snowfall is one of my favorite things.

And is it wrong that I feel bad that I had to let Mr. Mousie out earlier today? I mean, I don't want him in my house, but poor thing must be freezing his tail off right now.

Dear Post Office,

I know I read trashy magazines, but that's no reason to trash them before they even get to my tender, shallow hands. I mean, my MarieClaire looks like a dog chewed on it and then you used it to play kickball.

Hugs and kisses,
Christina

So, I went to Zumba (warning, music) today after work. People, I am far too white for that class. They bring the booty shaking manuevers and I am completely unable to do anything. But it was a great workout and while my back is sore, I am happy. And, on the plus side, I get to stare at someone's ass "to figure out the next dance move." (No, really, just for the dance moves) (Though the instructor is cute)

I've been to the gym twice since last week and each time, I've seen an anorexically thin woman there. I just want to tell her to eat a sandwich. I know our culture loves skinny and everything and hell, I don't mind skinny (see previous paragraph), but there's a difference between skinny and I can see your ribs. I just want to hand them a printout of this comic, though that would probably not be good.

And metro, would it fucking kill you to light your goddamn stations? I can't believe I can barely read a newspaper at Gallery Place. GALLERY PLACE, which is a hub for three of your lines! ARGH! And I totally boogied out to The Way We Get By by Spoon (love that fucking song - it's just crying for some dance major to put jiggy choreography to it), so I'm sure I was either sickeningly adorable or just sickening with my hair in pigtails and bopping to the beat.

On the way home, I realized I have tortillas, salsa, steak and cheese in my fridge. QUESADILLA TIME! Have had one and am hungry enough to back for another. Or maybe it's just that I'm dehydrated and have had a beer. Ooh, time for House!

Standard Christianity Disclaimer: I have no problem with Christianity as a religion. Some of my best friends are Christians. I used to be Christian. This is not meant to be an attack on normal, kind people who are followers of Christ and actually try to practice what he preached. This is meant to be an attack on people who seem to have traded their common sense and tolerance of other's beliefs for the JesusTrain.

So, last year there was this whole big whoop-de-doo about how Christmas was "under fire." Hordes of liberals were running around everywhere, killing Santa Claus in front of small children, shooting the Easter Bunny and making everyone celebrate Kwanzaa, even though no one is quite sure what Kwanzaa is. Or, you know, whatever.

Basically, people are getting mad that the appropriate thing to say nowadays is "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas." Having holiday parties and holiday trees is such an affront to some folks that O'Reilly and the rest of the right-wing crazies that they launched a big campaign to make sure that the Christmas season was all about Christmas. There's a bit of a spiritual renaissance going on right now in our country. I mean, our president has God on speed dial and there seems to be more and more discussion of faith lately. Which would be great, except that it's only the Christian faith being discussed and it always seems to be from a voice of intolerance. In this context, the first thing that comes to mind was the campaign to get Wal-Mart to change "Happy Holidays" to "Merry Christmas." Which was successful. Don't forget the Bible quoting Jesus dolls that Toys for Tots got bullied into taking. What unfortunate young child wouldn't want to get a button activated Moses instead of, say, a fire truck?

Quite frankly, I find this hullabaloo ridiculous. Christianity is the predominant religion in America. Christmas is the only religious holiday that is a federal holiday in America (though, if I'm missing one, please let me know). If you're going to attack schools for wanting to teach children what Kwanzaa, Hannukah and Yule are, why not get mad at the retailers who set up Santa in mall food courts before Halloween? Why not get mad at the crass commercialism, at Black Friday, the fact that wrapping paper is a huge waste, that piped in Christmas carols drive retail staff slowly mad in December? Or that Christmas in American culture has very little to do with Jesus?

So, folks are mad that no one wants to call it Christmas. OK, yes, calling it a holiday tree is a little silly. But let's not forget that Christmas trees have pagan origins. And "Whose birthday are we celebrating?" Mithras. I'm not even going to get into Saturnalia. Or Jolly Old Saint Nick. So, right, Christmas is a whole lotta paganism with a shiny Jesus sticker slapped on it. As are a lot of Christian holiday traditions, but that's another rant.

So, why get mad at me when I say "Happy Holidays" to you? How am I supposed to know that you celebrate Christmas? You could be celebrating Hannukah (Judaism), Kwanzaa (...), Yule (Paganism), Eid ul-Adha (Islam), the Ascencion of `Abdu'l-Bahá (Bahá'í), or some other faith that I'm not aware of. Cultures that have winter climates have a winter celebration... because what the hell else were our ancestors supposed to do in the snow? Now would these holidays be such a big deal if Christmas wasn't going on at the same time? Absolutely not. The beauty of America is that it's a melting pot. Everyone remember the whole melting pot spiel where you researched your ancestors in 5th grade? As a country, we're getting more diverse, more ethnicities, more religions. There's this perception in mainstream culture that religion is just Christianity and Judaism. Islam is getting added only because of events in the Middle East, in my opinion. Which leaves out Hinduism, Buddhism, Paganism, Ba'hai, Taoism, Shintoism, Atheists, Santeria, Yoruba, Rastafarians, Pastafarians, etc... Some of us don't like getting left out of the loop.

Now, what I sort of understand about this whole "Christmas is DYING" drama-llama is that there's something not quite right about explaining every winter holiday except for Christmas. Or having religious symbols out for every holiday except for Christmas. If you want to cover the birth of the Sun God for Yule, the lighting of lamps for Hannukah, whatever people do for Kwanzaa, sure, talk about the birth of Jesus. But don't get your panties in a twist if it's not featured as the ZOMG ONLY TRUE RELIGION.

My point is, as always, it's not JUST about Jesus. Stop making it. Or, don't be surprised if I wish you a Blessed Yule when you wish me a Merry Christmas.

Hidden Villa is a 1600 acre wilderness preserve on the peninsula of the San Francisco Bay Area. In an area where real estate is postage stamp sized and sold for millions of dollars, it's a wonderful place, as well as an organic farm, youth hostel, community garden and a great place for locals to come to hike.

Every summer it has many sessions of day camps and overnight camps. Except that due to budget shortfalls, they're axing overnight camps. Some counselors and former counselors have formed a group to save the camps and their reasons why.

I did day camp for several years and overnight camp one summer. My older brother did it for several years and then worked as a counselor for two. It's an amazing place that tries to teach kids to be mindful of the environment (all leftover food is composted, kids care for the various farm animals in shifts, etc...). Hidden Villa was the first place I slept outside under the stars (I was 8, I think).

If you're a local, please consider making a donation and paying a visit. If you're not local, still consider making a donation. Page here. I just sent $25. And it's tax deductible.

This article just fills me with rage.

On one hand, I understand where the people refusing care are coming from. You have your beliefs and you feel the need to stick to them. I can respect that. But why do your beliefs have to affect what happens to my body? Now, I understand if I were dispensing death pills, I would not be particularly happy about that. But if the people I'm giving the death pills to have weighed their options, discussed the situation with their doctors and loved ones, who am I to judge? I really think faith is what is going to tear our country apart in the coming years - the more the conservative/fundamentalists get set in their faith, the harder it will be for those of us who are not Christian to survive. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that people are getting more vocal about their beliefs, but it's really annoying to hear the majority talk about how slighted they are. I'm just frustrated that tolerance and respect for others seems to be moving away from the mainstream.

In other news, my SpySweeper decided it needed to sweep and found a bunch of adware and then my virus scanner found a virus.

I talked with my mother yesterday and bitched about a situation with one of my staffers. She actually had some helpful advice (that whole transpersonal psychology masters comes in useful sometimes!) and is sending me 3 different books about these sorts of things. Which... maybe it's the Extreme Home Makeover, but that made me kind of teary.

Oh my goodness, I had chicken, pasta, two servings of dessert (and yes, a couple glasses of red wine - this is why one goes to Trader Joe's! $2 Chuck!) and I still want food. Stupid stomach.

And now I shall fix my bed skirt. For it is ripped.

ETA Now I feel vindicated but even more angry.