“Some Dancer”

* DANCER:
"A dance to summer.
In this dance I symbolize the restlessness of new seasons.
The desire to escape from boredom–
From responsibility–
From cool men–
From all the inadequate pleasures.
The desire to lift oneself out of the predictable–
And never have to return."

Little KID, watches Dancer fly away:

"Some dancer."

––Jules Feiffer, 1929 – 2025

_______________
From an interview w/ Feiffer at 95 years old, NPR:

"Among other things, I'm suffering from acute macular degeneration.
I have to work big, big, big, big, big to see what I'm doing....
I started fooling both with drawing and text, which is drawn on 18-by-24 sheets of watercolor paper.

"But I'm happier now than I ever have been, doing the work I love and having a wife I'm crazy about and living this wonderful life to the end, where I can say things and do things, and my work has been accepted so that I can get away with it.
Getting away with it is a very important deal."
________________

* Jules Feiffer. A Dance to Summer, 1964. Published in The Village Voice, June 25, 1964. Library of Congress

www.loc.gov/exhibits/swann-gallery/exhibitionitems/Assets/00183u_enlarge.jpg

Tuesday Warm-Up: Dolls, Food, Love

It's warm: in the 30s, heading for the mid-40s. And sunny!
I wish I could take a walk, but my knee is still dicky.

Kirsten emailed a couple days ago: Do old dolls ever get donated to the store? she would like one.
Yesterday this doll came in. I've never seen one like her.
Would K. like her? 
Yes!

A pal, a regular customer who used to be a doll dealer (before the Internet), happened in yesterday afternoon.
I ran and got the doll.

"Beautiful!" she declared---"all handmade. Fully jointed cloth body, with mohair hair, the face is a fine papier-mache... Unmarked so not as valuable to a collector, but very like dolls by Lenci or Käthe Kruse."  

BELOW: Dolls by Käthe Kruse, who began making dolls in 1909 in Berlin, German:

II. A favorite photo of mine

Me, below, left, holding yellow book, with coworkers (Big Boss in Santa hat; Jester, E.D., and Mr Furniture) pose in the donation door for a photo advertising our Wednesday Food-Giveaways during Covid.
This cracks me up because we're so scruffy, and it's so cute, me waving.

Due to politics, Society of SVDP no longer has a food bank. All grocery stores & distributors now give their expired/ excess food to one state-supported distribution facility, Second Harvest.
This is efficient–-monopolies are--but knocking out little rag-tag operations is a loss.

Also, groceries from the Society's food bank supplemented the staff's minimum wage, so it was a big loss to us. I've written about this before--sometimes my coworkers make their meals from the expired bakery that still gets donated directly to the store.

(The wonderful Sisters Camelot is one of the few indies in town who still operate. They handle a lot of produce, and they give out free meals from an old school bus.)

BELOW: I took this photo yesterday to show to the folks at the Food Shelf where I get free food to make hot lunch for my coworkers every week.
I aim not to cook red meat very often because some people don’t eat it (and especially not pork), but I take whatever looks good. Last week, organic (!) hamburger.

III. James Baldwin on Holding on to Your Humanity:

"There may not be as much humanity in the world as one would like to see.
But there is some.
...
I may know six people, but that's enough.
...
The world is held together, really it is—held together, by the love and the passion of a very few people."

I've watched this (1 minute) a dozen times:

--Meeting The Man : James Baldwin in Paris.
Dir. Terence Dixon, 1970.

Boycott Target/Buy greener TP or Make Your Own

Why are halfway decent companies caving without a fuss to the New Emperor?
When I heard Target is rolling back their DEI, I immediately thought, I'm not shopping there. Starting NOW.

I don’t know why this Target boycott waits to starts Feb 1––maybe to give everybody time to go to Target and stock up?! 😄
This feels personal to me--Target is based in my city and has been a good ally.

And then, some people online are saying,
But there's nowhere else to shop!  
But... Let's show some initiative. Our ancestors didn't have Target. What are our options?
Like toilet paper… There are several.

1. Order tp from sustainable or recycled materials--from Who Gives a Crap or another good company.
Former Housemate ordered these, and they're just dandy. They offer bamboo tp too, which is softer than recycled tree paper.
Order a batch with friends and share.
You get 20% off a first order: https://us.whogivesacrap.org

2. It's more expensive than Target, yes, so to save money and the environment. . .
Make cloth wipes instead of toilet paper (or paper towels). Use flannel, old T-shirt material, light washcloths--whatever does the job.

There are patterns for sewing cute cloth wipes, but I just cut up flannel with pinking sheers. I leave the squares unhemmed, and I launder the wipes in a net bag.
(I only use them for pee, so I still buy tp, but far less.)

Also, rinse your backside with warm water in a squeeze bottle.
(Folks chit-chat about tp alternatives, here at Homesteading and Permaculture.)

My motivations were environmental, after I wrote a kids book about toilet history and learned how much tp we put in our waters. I'm sure you know--besides pollution, it takes a lot of water to make tp, not to mention trees. From 2014:

bink assembles her mosaic

Kirsten said she'd like to see more of bink's process of mosaic-making. bink didn't record every step, but here are the finals ones anyway. I'm sure she'd be happy to answer questions, if you have any.

1. bink designed the mosaic after Greek art + her own terriers.
She cut the glass with special glass-cutting nippers or cutting wheels (or some she hit with a hammer). She laid-out the glass pieces in her basement studio. 

She bought colored glass (in sheets or scraps) from local companies who import it. Other supplies came from the hardware store.

2. She glued the glass pieces to the kitchen wall, using some super-strong silicone glue (GE brand). She cut lots of new glass pieces for the background. Mounting it took forever—like a very elaborate puzzle. (A few weeks.)

3. Then she applied dark gray grout with a special trowel for tiling called a float.
When wiped off with a warm damp sponge, it remains only in the cracks between the glass pieces.

4. Some touch-up (with heavy duty paper towels) and removing the last glue smudges with razor blade and glue-removers, and . . Ta-da!

Snorlax makes her bed.

I. Unfazed Fat

I found an animal-being that is me!
Snorlax from Pokemon, whose ability is Unfazed Fat. (Found the card at work.)
Snorlax is sleeping. Look, how happy!

I am also sleeping.
Well, not right now, but a lot. I just get tired of being conscious...
There's SO MUCH coming in all the time.
And I don't necessarily want to shut-down my brain by watching media, or even by reading (I keep being disappointed in the books I start...).
Sleep seems an ideal option. I process a lot that way, or I just get a break.

As for "unfazed fat", my body seems to have adjusted to not-eating processed sugars after three months and seems happy to rest at a 10-lbs-weight loss.
I'm still up 10+ lbs from when I walked Camino in 2011, and that's fine. We are unfazed. :)

It's weird that giving up sugar wasn't all that hard, after a lifetime of it being impossible––impossible!––to do.
Snorlax doesn't change by Force of Will...
Snorlax sleeps her way into the Right Thing at the Right Time.

 Snorlax makes the bed when she wakes up though.
___________________________

II. Make Your Bed

I do make my bed.
Jordan Peterson says to!
And I agree. Start with your heart (and your stuff), and work outward.

This article on Big Think compares JP's advice to make your bed, etc. to the underlying Shinto concepts in Marie Kondo's teachings.
Even if Peterson said it on a rant on Joe Rogan, this is a good perspective:

“If you can’t even clean up your own room, who the hell are you to give advice to the world?

My sense is that if you want to change the world, you start with yourself and work outward because you build your competence that way.
I don’t know how you can go out and protest the structure of the entire economic system if you can’t keep your room organized.”

I'd sent the Rowan Williams review of JP's book to Marz, and she sent this meme back, saying, He had at least one good idea.

III. Fact-check your heroes

Come on, folks--let’s check our facts.
Mariann Edgar Budde is a hero for publicly calling on Trump to show mercy, but this, below, circulating on FB (bink sent it to me) is inaccurate and takes credit away from the role of another ally hero, Bishop Gene Robinson-- the first openly gay man elected a bishop in the Episcopal Church.

Yes, Budde supported and was part of it, but Shepard's final interment was the result of his parents' friendship with Robinson. (And also, Matthew Shephard loved church! Who would have guessed.)

"Shepard's funeral in 1998 was met with noisy protests by anti-gay militants.
The decision to seek his interment at Washington National Cathedral came as a result of the Shepards' friendship with Bishop Robinson.
Robinson contacted the cathedral dean, the Rev. Randolph Marshall Hollerith, and Washington's Episcopal bishop, Budde, both of whom readily agreed to the placement of Shepard's ashes in the cathedral crypt.

"'There will be young people from all across the country, having tours here and being educated here,' Bishop Budde said.
'When they pass by, they will see a plaque in his honor. They will see that this is a church that has learned from the example of violence that we need to stand and be counted as among those who work for justice and the full embrace of all God's children.'"

––"'You Are Safe Now': Matthew Shepard Laid To Rest At National Cathedral", NPR, October 26, 2018.

I figure we're all so starved for someone in power to stand up to Trump. And for the Church to DO ITS JOB: 
be a proponent of love and mercy and justice.

The Church too needs to clean its house.

Let's go!

“Look for tulips this spring”/ We are not powerless

I did write to the Episcopalian bishop, Mariann Budde, today, to thank her for asking for mercy for the vulnerable. It’s so happened that my friend Zim had this week sent me a British stamp with “The Skating Minister” on it – – from 1973! The one girlette Minnie Sutherland re-created for my Xmas card in 2020, the first winter of Covid. And I thought since the minister I was going to write to used to live here, she’d likely have skated on one of these lakes herself.

I got extra motivated to make the card (add the stamp) and actually WRITE it by seeing a comment (not on my blog): “I am so upset about Trump, but I am powerless”. 

We are not powerless! 

I may not be able to directly affect the administration, but I figure if nothing else I can support the people who are on the front lines trying to do so. Send care packages! Or whatever—there’s a million things we can do. Today, for me—a handwritten note. 

Who knows what effect a note might have – – even if it’s “just” on an aide who is tasked with reading the mail.

I only just remembered today that years ago when I was working for the K-12 school book publisher, I’d sent a geography book about Sudan that I’d edited to whomever was on the foreign relations committee related to Sudan. I have no idea now who that was except that they were a Republican I didn’t like. But I wrote to say perhaps we, the US, could do something about Darfur?

And I got the nicest personal letter back from the guy’s aide (intern?) saying how distressing the situation was and how he himself appreciated me writing and sending the book – – and that he and his boss also hoped that our country could help….

So, who knows? That was many years ago – – perhaps that intern has grown up into someone in power, someone who tries to help? Or not. 

[There’s a STORY IDEA.  What happens after some fleeting contact between strangers who will never meet (in this life 😉) again?]

We just don’t know what fruit our plantings will bear – – but we have the power to plant them.

That’s not nothing! 

This is what I wrote the Right Reverend:

And I won't back down

From the Guardian: theguardian.com/us-news/2025/jan/23/mariann-edgar-budde-trump-sermon-defense

 Budde said she did her best to “present an alternative to the culture of contempt, and to say that we can bring multiple perspectives into a common space and do so with dignity and respect”.

“And that we need that,” she continued, as “the culture of contempt is threatening to destroy us. And I’m getting a little bit of a taste of that this week.”

As of Thursday morning, more than 30,000 people [+ one, me] had signed a petition supporting her sermon.

————

And a friend shared this w/ me from Facebook (knowing I’m off it):

Speaking Truth to Power

A couple people have lifted my heart in the past couple days.
I've only been able to stomach short video-clips from inauguration day, and only this morning did I realize that I know (well, I met) one of them:
Mariann Budde, the Episcopalian priest who called out Trump.
So brave and true. A real Christian. A mensch. My hero!

(I hope this article isn't behind a paywall, but I expect you've seen the video anyway.
startribune.com/mariann-edgar-budde-trump-sermon/601209242)

Budde was rector at an Episcopalian church here in town that I went to a couple times when I was checking out religions and churches other than my Catholic one.
I immediately loved her. She was great.
I even remember one of her sermons because. . . 

1. She quoted E. B. White on his wife, Katherine, continuing to plant tulip bulbs in the fall, even the year she knew she wouldn't be there in the spring. "Calmly plotting the resurrection", he called it:

“As the years went by and age overtook her, there was something comical yet touching in her bedraggled appearance on this awesome occasion —
the small, hunched-over figure, her studied absorption in the implausible notion that there would be yet another spring, oblivious to the ending of her own days, which she knew perfectly well was near at hand, sitting there with her detailed chart under those dark skies in the dying October, calmly plotting the resurrection.”

And, 2. She announced at the end of the service that there would be a meeting to review the Annual Report, and all were invited.

I went up to her afterward and told her that I was a heartbroken Catholic-in-exile and her sermon had touched me.
"I felt like crying," I said–– she nodded with pastoral concern––
"when you invited everyone to review the budget."

And she laughed.
(You know--and she knew--Catholics don't get to see no church budget reports!)

I liked Budde very much but realized I would remain a Catholic outside-the-Church. It's a matter of the heart. She's a shining example of what I always want Christians (and priests) and all humans to be.

I'm going to write her a typewriter Thank-you card.
(I've only written three--they turned out to be more intense to do than I expected.)
___________________

And then, another hero!
This woman, Pamela Hemphill, turned down Trump's pardon:

"We were wrong... Accepting a pardon would only insult the Capitol police officers ...and our nation."

bbc.com/news/articles/cvged988377o

She's already served her time, but still. Jesus, you'd think people could know the most basic right from wrong. But since they don't.... GOOD FOR HER!
_________________
We all knew this would be weird and bad, right?
But it wasn't possible (for me, anyway) to prepare for just how WEIRD it all is.
The added warp for me being the Tech Bros all lined up in service like dogs. (Dogs are good, but people are not good when they behave like dogs.)

Remember when Google said its motto was Don't Be Evil in 2004?

"Don't be evil. We believe strongly that in the long term, we will be better served—as shareholders and in all other ways—by a company that does good things for the world even if we forgo some short term gains."
––wsj.com/articles/BL-DLB-33777

I guess I still held onto some of the early glow of tech, when it seemed it might be part of an evolutionary leap forward.
"We'll do better now!"
And of course, it has unleashed enormous democratic creative expression and allowed for huge political insight.
(My forever example (of course):
George Floyd would have been just another Black man the police squashed like a bug if 17-year-old Darnella Frazier hadn't filmed his murder on her phone and posted it online. [Her statement])

But of course the Internet is like Science:
it's the users who determine what good or evil we make of it.
The owners too, though, and right now they are not humanity's finest.
Poorly done. I'm disappointed in you, guys. No cinnamon rolls for you.

But the users?
That's us!

One rep at a time

Between the sub-zero cold and the MLK holiday (people thought we were closed), the store was quiet yesterday. I was happy to have time to straighten some shelves. (My knee doesn't hurt if I'm standing still, and when I walked around, mostly I leaned on a cart.)

I spied this set of napkin rings, which had been in the napkin-ring bin since before I started 3 months ago. "These are vintage".
(Yep, 1970s. Online, Otagiri–Japan napkin rings are $15–30.)
I windexed the smudges off, repriced the set from 49 cents to $2.99, and put it on the Vintage shelf. I'll be interested to see--I predict it will sell fast.
 

Gym Ben sent an encouraging email to All yesterday evening, after the inauguration of DT:

"It is my deepest hope that our little gym can be a very literal anchor....  We have withstood so many hard times so far, and will continue to do so. Please let me know how I can continue to support you, as we stand shoulder to shoulder, strong and unified."

He signed off,

"Take care of yourselves, take care of each other. 

ISYMFS, One Rep at a Time"

ISYMFS?

I looked it up--it's a weightlifting term that stands for
"It's Still Your Mother-Fucking Set".

That is, don't leave the bench, you still have reps to do. 

 Don't Stop Your Work.

I heard it as an adjunct to the MLK phrase I'd posted yesterday:
"The moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice".
It's long means, you still have reps to do...
Keep your eyes on the prize, and pace yourself.

Little motions add up.
A donation of pink and blue paper plates reminded me of the trans flag, so I decided to build an end-cap display around them.
January needs color! And for those with eyes to see, it's welcoming.
               "Life is a beautiful ride."

I abhor the new executive order to lock-down two sexes.
(You know, the horrible Mr Musk declared [to Jordan Peterson * ] that his trans daughter is “dead — killed by the woke mind virus.”)

There are some problems with some trans politics (cult-like pressures to agree or be declared anathema). It reminds me of the ridigity of 1980s lesbian feminism, which I participated in enthusiastically as a scared, angry, righteous 20something.
But declaring your child dead???
That is bonkers.

Ordering there to be only two sexes? That's not even science. You can't order the ocean tides. I know ya'll know... Biological sex can be "kind of science-fiction material".
––"The Idea of 2 Sexes Is Overly Simplistic", Scientific American, 2018.

{DT not being scientific. Imagine that.}

Anyway, anyone's gender is not my business, and I believe (*hope*) that the movement to loosen-up gender restrictions is a move toward liberation.

'ALL ARE WELCOME HERE' is literally true at the store.
You can pass out on our couches, pee on the floor (it's happened), throw a stapler, steal stuff, whatever.
Really, we don't even ban shoplifters. (Well, almost never. There was one guy...)
That can make the store hard, and even unsafe, but I love that that's how we roll.

The Girlettes don't care. Here they are at the end of the day yesterday. "We are girls, but we don't care what you are."
They really don't care, not one jot. "That's a human thing."

* I loved and laughed out loud at this review in the Guardian of Jordan Peterson's new book, We Who Wrestle with God (2024), by Rowan Williams (once archbishop of Canterbury): "A Culture Warrior Out of His Depth".
Williams's is a gentle take-down whose very gentleness is hilarious, almost a la Monty Python--as if you were to argue with Philomena Cunk granting that her points were reasonable.)

Examples that made me smile:

"Peterson’s readings are curiously like a medieval exegesis of the text, with every story really being about the same thing: an austere call to individual heroic integrity."

{Ah, curious, that.}

And, "There is certainly a discussion to be had about toxicity in parenting, but finding it in the second chapter of Genesis requires impressive single-mindedness."

{Impressive single-mindedness. Impressive!}

... And,
"He relies a lot on rather dated Christian commentaries (and seems to have a limited acquaintance with Hebrew, a drawback for a project like this)."

{Rather dated? And a limited acquaintance with Hebrew? Such a shame.}

Final lines of the review:
"This is an odd book, whose effect is to make the resonant stories it discusses curiously abstract. 'Matter and impertinency mixed', in Shakespeare’s phrase."

{We mourn with Shakespeare.}

But---on we go. We got reps to do!

And after, perhaps some tea with milk from a ceramic animal?

Good to know

It's Martin Luther King Jr Day, and we in the U-S-of-A are inaugurating our new head honcho attended by his crew--all denizens of a Star Wars cantina, "a wretched hive of scum and villainy". *
Are you ready?

ABOVE: Maurice Sendak illustration
for Open House for Butterflies by Ruth Krauss
"A screaming song is good to know
in case you need to scream"

________________

STORY IDEA: The world's richest and most powerful bad men (r&mpbm) are gathered on a platform for a ceremony.
Due to what is later determined to be an accidental but catastrophic failure of the screws supporting the structure, the platform collapses.
Miraculously most people survive with barely a scratch,
but the r&mpbm are crushed to death.
What next?
____________________

Such catastrophe is unlikely.
We're more likely in for the continuing slog along "the arc of the moral universe", which, MLK said, "is long, but it bends toward justice.”

I used to think that MLK quote was mere wishful thinking.
But it came to me last night as I was falling asleep:
no, that's right.

I keep marveling at my (our) experience of being a Blip o' Carbon that gained Consciousness.
It is the nature of Consciousness to expand beyond Self-awareness to Other-awareness:
As it is for me, so it is for thee.

A concomitant result of the expansion of consciousness is what we call justice. Justice is not an emotion, it is a response to the rain that falls on all.
The Golden Rule, applied, can look more like engineering:
if you don't like to get rained on at the bus stop,
build a bus shelter.

The growth of the species is like the growth of a child.
Consciousness expands, like a stretchy web.
First it becomes self-aware, and it cares for its own survival. And the survival of the other people it depends on, and later, its own offspring.
Gradually it (the child, the species) builds up awareness that Other People Are Real too--other people beyond the immediate family and tribe.
And the consciousness expands outward, for some, to include all of existence.

So yeah, I think 'the moral arc bends toward justice' is a way of saying that. It's not guaranteed--MLK doesn't even say it will reach justice--but it is like a plant growing toward the sun--it wants to go that way.
It helps if we clear the stuff that blocks the light, that warps the arc--of our own personal life, our hearts,  and onward, outward to our neighborhoods and beyond.

Let us hold hands and keep on going. 

How long, oh Lord, how long?

Long, and very long.

 
__________________

* The quoted words from Star Wars are Obi Wan-Kenobi's.
The idea of DT's cabinet picks being from a Star Wars cantina is Robert Reich's, former US secretary of labor.
I had snapped a photo of the Sendak illustrations weeks ago--and saved it for today.

bink's Mosaic!

It's done! bink has been working on her mosaic in the remodeled kitchen for a couple months. Her design was partly inspired by ancient Greek art--and by her love of dogs. I love it-- buoyant & noble!

bink had suffered a bad concussion three Aprils ago. It knocked her vision out of whack, and she couldn't do close-up, detailed work for almost TWO YEARS!
So it's extra cool to see her making intricate art again. It's been a long haul.

I am getting to practice the patience of the wounded myself:
my knee is a little better, but it's too painful to do anything much. I priced housewares from a chair yesterday--and will today, but of course there's still a lot of up and down and moving around.
(Doing gentle floor exercises too.)

I realized--(as I didn't when I was thoughtlessly mobile)--that the city bus has removed steps. The buses even "kneel", so the flat entrance ramp is only a small step up from the curb.
Hooray! for planners and designers who think of such things. They are angels among us.
I should/will write a thank-you to the City.

Buses have also reduced prices. I was shocked--who lowers prices?
And their policy is that if you ask for a "courtesy ride", the driver will let you ride for free. There's some social resistance to this--you can imagine--but it's a blessing.

 And city planners who've added bike & bus lanes all over town--more brilliance! I've heard car drivers complain about the lanes--even well-meaning people I know.
I'm like--you know your car is a problem, right? Show some school spirit!

I love the photo on Abby's sidebar:
"You are not stuck in traffic. You are traffic."

Anyway... I like limp to the bus stop today too. Manageress was sympathetic--she has a bad back. "You can work sitting down."

Speaking of noodles---I'm kind of mommish with New Boy at work, and I asked him what he'd like for his 32nd birthday lunch. He requested tuna noodle salad "with peas", so I am bringing that in on Monday.
Anyone have tips for making a good tuna noodle?

New Boy is the tough-punk-in recovery coworker I've mentioned who likes stuffed animals. He's got an orphan-waif vibe to him. He's a mess, honestly--the way young people who struggle can be.
I think he's got what it takes to make it. He's smart! (Not necessarily a plus? but certainly a pleasure to be around.)

Time to head out--into the "polar vortex dipping down from Siberia"--you may be feeling it too if you're in North America.
Bundle up!

Sick Day, w Tamarind Sauce & Astronauts

Getting Strong Now (or Later)

It was inspiring to meet with trainer Ben at the gym yesterday--though my hurt knee limited what I could do. I trust it will get better, and I'll work to get stronger again--and protect myself from injuries like this (from overuse at work, not an accident).

Ben & I were talking about Duluth--his sister lives there and, for now, so does Marz. (Today is the first day of her second semester.)
I said my goal is to be strong enough to hike a section of the Superior Hiking Trail. The SHT runs through the city of Duluth--I've walked 5-mile segments--but the entire thing is a 260-mile rugged footpath along a ridgeline overlooking Lake Superior, from Duluth almost to the Canadian border.
No amenities: you have to backpack everything in and out.

The SHT website cautions, "You should carefully consider whether you’re in good condition and prepared before setting out" [unsaid: so we don't have to send the Rope Team (a real thing) to rescue your dumb ass].
I wouldn't want to hike-through the entire trail, but I'd like to be able to. And then just go for a day hike. (There are mosquitoes.) (And bears.)

So that was good, but today I feel a little down.
You know how it is to be set back and immobilized.
Very much not like Rocky running up the steps.

(He does start out a lazy, out-of-shape slob, but he's also thirty years old... Regaining strength at my age looks different. Still, I love that movie--maybe it'd cheer me up to rewatch it again.)

I took the day off work to rest my knee. I have 48 hours till I go back on Friday--hopefully it'll be much better by then. If not, I can do some seated work––looking up prices––but the job is of course mostly physical. I didn't do myself any favors, taking 8 months off, physically. (Psychologically, though, it was entirely a win.)

It's good for me to have this motivation to keep strong for work. I am lazy and would never do it otherwise.
This is a good place for me to be.
________________

Sauce It Up

After the gym, I went to Everett's on the next block––a family-owned butcher and grocery where I used to go when I lived in that direction. They're an old-fashioned mom-and-pop outfit, selling classics like pork chops and iceberg lettuce, but they carry some newer-to-town foods too.

Like this Somali tamarind and date sauce made by a local company, Hoyo (means mother, and also home). Its sweetness is from dates alone. (I'd decided dates are okay.)
It's like a relative of ketchup--the first ingredient is tomato.

(Hm, though the roots of ketchup are in fermented fish sauce, not tomatoes:
"By the early 1700s, the word was apparently understood --by the British--to mean a kind of spiced, savory condiment broadly known in South Asia and distinct from soy sauce. ")

Puck, above, right, is telling Penny Cooper how she showed her bionic leg to Ben. True. Ben was complimentary. I don't know what he feels about things--he's slightly remote--but I love how he just rolls with stuff. "Okay, here is a client who brings her doll."
And why not?

That's the book I'm reading--re-reading. Project Hail Mary, by Andy Weir who wrote The Martian (movie with Matt Damon. I hear Project HM has already been filmed w/ Ryan Gosling--to be released next year.)
Project is an even better story:
the reluctant astronaut––a junior-high school science teacher––meets an alien astronaut, and together they work to save the galaxy from a light-eating microbe.
It's funny and imaginative--and Weir does the math (literally and symbolically) to make it work. (All the work I don't want to do when I come up with a fun story idea.)

Anyway, I ate the tamarind sauce with baked chicken last night. It was good--zingy and sweetish, and not something I'd overeat, unlike sugary ketchup which I'd pour on like syrup.

I read something yesterday that touched on my question, If you take  semaglutide drugs that remove appetite, what happens to psychological needs that used to be met by (over)eating?
A therapist said that a client who used to overeat started a weight-loss drug and then began to pick their skin off instead.

It is not known:
Do the drugs adversely affect mental health, or, do they reveal underlying issues that over-eating was addressing?

I'm tinkering with how I eat, you know, and wondering about the way food and comfort and well-being are all interwoven.
But I'm not taking away the pleasure and comfort of eating, I'm replacing processed-sugars with other foods.

Aside from some sadness at first (no–ice-cream felt like a loss), and some confusion from changing habits (what do I do now?), giving up sugar hasn't hurt my mood--maybe because I can still overeat. That's even been funny! Like, the day after the election, I binge-ate an entire baked butternut squash. Aside from being very high in potassium (hard on kidneys), butternut squash is a big health plus, even in excess. 😄

After three months of not-eating added-sugars, I feel more level, emotionally--and physically. That's a nice thing.
I thought I'd really, really miss candy and ice cream, because I ate it every day. I'm surprised I don't. Giving myself permission---encouragement, in fact--to eat anything else helps a lot. Food with natural sugar, like butternut squash, keeps cravings away, and flavorful food provides satisfaction. It's still sometimes a drag to have to make decisions to feed myself (instead of the easier option of Just Eat Sugar), but it's doable.

Food in Childhood

If you have an easy, happy relationship with food, this is maybe all obvious. I've never had that.
Well... that's not true. When I was a little kid in the 1960s, I didn't have much choice, and my family ate pretty well.
My mother cooked pretty much every meal, even after she went back to work part-time as a secretary at the University.
Oatmeal or eggs for weekday breakfast. Oh, and corn flakes with strawberries. That was our junk cereal.

We walked home for lunch. What did we eat...?
Geez, I don't remember. It must be in my data bank somewhere--I'll put in a request and see what gets returned.
I remember saying I was hungry but turning down the only snack on offer--an apple.

Dinner was classic mid-century meat (baked chicken, some cut of beef, pork chops); bread/ brown rice/potatoes; and green salad with olive-oil dressing.
Did we even have dessert? My mother baked, for sure. But was it every night?  She also loved ice-cream with "goop": Smuckers chocolate and butterscotch topping in a jar.
She would go on weird diets where she ate nothing by Saltine crackers and Coca-cola. (Not diet.)

Junk food was a rarity--sometimes my father got Fritos corn chips and bean dip (in a can) for Sunday football games, and we could have a few.
Once in a blue moon we went to McDonald's, which was a HUGE treat.

Anyway, as I've said, this all went haywire when she left the family in 1974, the same time fast- junk foods and super-sizes were just starting to rise to their ascendancy.
I'm repeating myself here, I know, but I keep re-viewing it:
What happened? To the country, the world, to us, to you and to me?

STORY IDEA:

You know stories like the 1978 movie Heaven Can Wait where someone dies and they go to Heaven and lodge a complaint–– "I wasn't supposed to die" (Warren Beatty says to heavenly agent Buck Henry)--and it turns out they're right:
someone made a mistake, and Heaven tries to rectify it?

Okay, so this is just the same, but in reverse--thinking about reincarnation and also  about how people sometimes feel they shouldn't be here, they don't belong.
What if there's a mistake sometimes and people are incarnated into the wrong life?
According to the swami I'm listening to sometimes, that's not possible. "You can never be somewhere you're not supposed to be."
But, what if there's a mistake?

Like, you should be surrounded by people you share karma with,
But you're not? "You were never my mother!"
Hm, is that possible, if everyone's been everything to everybody?
I don't know.
Maybe they get incarnated on the wrong planet?
"This is not my solar system!"
Just an idea to kick around...

It could be comforting in a weird, reverse way. "Sorry, you're right! We'll send in some support, but you're just going to have to bumble through this lifetime."
Sure can FEEL like that!

"Life goes on"

I love it when Sally says in Peanuts that her life philosophy is, "Life goes on," "Who cares?" and "How should I know?":

[High schoolers I worked with last spring did not know who Charlie Brown was. "Why is he bald?" one girl asked. "Does he have cancer?"]

 But I don't love Sally's philosophy in public leaders...

[Explanation for me in the future, when this ^ might not be obvious.
L to R: At the same time LA caught fire, Mark Zuckerberg of Meta (Facebook & Instagram) announced Meta would drop fact-checking, aligning with the desires of incoming US president Trump and his billionaire handler/minion?, Elon Musk, owner of Twitter/X.]

‘How should I know?’ is not a great approach to personal physical health & finances either, but it's been mine. Just ignore it, and it will go away--can be true for money & health!

Every so often, however, I make a big push to GET IT TOGETHER.
Which I spent the morning doing.
I am reapplying for health insurance from the State. (MN's coverage for povvos is great--basically it pays for whatever you need).
Since I quit the public schools 4.5 months ago, I've been without health care. Luckily, I didn't need it. I didn't bother to apply until now--the day before the deadline.

Aaaand... today I start 1:1 training again with Ben, the owner of a small strength-training gym in an old gas station where I worked out during 2020.
His gym's motto is Empathy | Resilience | Community.

It was such an upsetting time, I used to lie on the ground and stretch... and talk (wearing a mask). It was as much emotional centering as strength-training.
One day after the murder of G Floyd--the gym is a mile away-- I was walking home and truckloads of the National Guard rolled past me down the city street. I was so upset, I stopped at the gym and cried.
Ben was chill.

He is also entirely chill with people setting their own fitness/body goals. "Some people just want me to walk around the block with them." He says one reason he works to be strong is so he can help other people.
This is Ben:

This decision to work out again rolls on from my experience this fall of not being able to run-shuffle up a slight incline at Gooseberry Falls State Park. I started walking, but being back at the store, lifting and carrying, I can tell I've lost strength. I want to rebuild that--and maybe go beyond?
But for now, I'm coming from behind--I twisted my knee yesterday and am hobbling along.

 S  l  o  w  l  y  does it.

Also, you know, I keep thinking about the new weight-loss drugs, like ozempic. They are the opposite of what I want for myself, Being a Carbon-Based Life Form with Consciousness.
I am not a go-getter, I am not Pursuing Enlightenment with vigor. 
I just want to putz along in my small life;
but I want to be awake for it. You know?
I don't want to turn it over to the Medical Establishment.

Especially because I KNOW I started overeating because I felt empty and abandoned as a teen. The response I want isn't to knock it back with drugs, but to . . .
to wrap my arms around the whole shebang--emptiness and delight--and take it in.
Which I've been doing for years, and intend to continue.
Low and slow.

[I always want to add, if someone’s life is threatened by obesity, these drugs look to be miraculous! 

And also, of course everyone wants to do and can do different things.]
__________________

 Recently someone told me that a "shamanic practitioner" who lives nearby (in the neighborhood going away from the thrift store, not toward it) is offering New Year readings.
I was dubious but curious, so I looked closer.
He charges $70 for a half-hour reading, so, no...
But worse in my eyes, he offers these only on Zoom.

I asked Penny Cooper. Can spirits come through Zoom?
She said they could... If they want.
But she went on to say they often don't want to, because the tubes are so small. Further, some of them are naughty and stuff popcorn in the tubes, so then the readings "might be wrong."

(I suppose spirits can do whatever they want, but that's her take, and I like it.)
__________________
Time to go to the gym!

Here's the latest morph of the end-cap at work that started as a Hannukah display; then became solid colors; now––Suitable for Pasta:

Wriggle out of it

Ha, again. Not a triumphant "ha" this time though.
I'd been feeling groovy lately--practically congratulating myself on my imperturbability--and then I went to an art-making afternoon led by my hardest kind of person:
someone who doesn't ask, doesn't listen, but tells you how you feel, what you think, and what you should do.

"We're all having a hard time now," she trumpeted. (Are we? ) "We need to make art!" (Do we?) And on and on, in the most prescriptive, prepackaged terms.

I was feeling fine until then. Afterward, I thought of Ram Dass saying that if you think you're enlightened, go spend a week with your family.

This sort of person reminds me of being a child not-listened to, dictated to. You'd almost think the Universe dropped me there yesterday: "Deal with it."

I left halfway through--always a good option when you can't stop seething––but I did collage a nice card for the coming Year of the Snake (Jan 29, 2025).

"The window of the parlor which she used to occupy was open, and"

The snake is a symbol of transformation––shedding the old––and its year invites wisdom, transformation, calmness, and creativity.
Okay, then.
The window is open.

"A mythic life is not a banking transaction."

"A mythic life is not a banking transaction."
I hear people judging their lives as if they were a retail exchange--like, it should be equitable. We make an effort and we should get a good return.
Or as if our lives were like a skin-care regime:
we should be able to show good results.

Even some spiritual teachers imply (or say) that you should be able to recognize if someone is (you are) 'enlightened'.
But can you?
I think it's far weirder than that.

I told Mr Furniture once that he was a genius artist.
"Then why am I here?" he said (meaning working for minimum wage in the armpit of the city).

I was surprised that this outlaw took worldly judgement as any kind of valid reflection of himself.
"You KNOW the world doesn't judge fairly!" I said.

What if we look at our lives in mythic terms?
What if they aren't measurable, but magical?
In fairy stories, things are often disguised, maybe the opposite of what they appear.
Good skin is not the marker.

I'd been talking with a friend about feeling older & wiser, and the friend was saying they weren't sure they were---that they'd done some things that maybe "set back their personal growth".

I got thinking, there's a vocabulary of judgment and worth in common use that sounds more like financial investment terms than terms that could best describe a human life.
I've complained about terms such as "self-care" before--they sound as if our souls just need a bubble bath.

But that's not the only vocabulary we have.
In myths and fairy tales and religions, a soul might find itself in a muddy swamp or a desolate desert, turned into a frog, or fed by crows, and required to perform an impossible task or to recognize a tempting offer as a trick.
_____
Myth full of pain and failure reassure me, but not when it gets happified into refrigerator magnets and marketing schemes.

 I like this Frida Kahlo mural on a business near the thrift store.
But look--she's almost Disneyfied.
She's smiling, for instance, which she never is in her self-portraits, and they leave off her mustache, which she proudly included. She looks almost plump and healthy, which she certainly wasn't.

I'm not objecting to this mural. I have a carrying bag with Vincent van Gogh's sunflowers. I'm just saying human lives don't need to be a constantly rising line on a graph of improvement.
It's weirder than that.