From writers–”I never knew you were a dancer!”

From dancers–”How weird. I would’ve thought by looking at how you dance, that it’s something you’ve been doing since you were little.”

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So far in my life, the writers cannot grasp that I love to dance. And the dancers are astonished that I would spend time writing. But whenever one art form seems to grow thin and brittle in my creativity, I turn to the other to bring the juicy flavor of expression up from my heart.

I covered this in a previous blog, but I fell in love with writing when I was 13 years old. It was a passionate affair,that also had ups and downs, but largely, we were happy together, writing and I. Mostly poetry, some prose. We hit a bump 10 years ago, that turned into a major roadblock, that turned into a damn mountain, and I found I was too broken hearted and devastated to write for a good long time. Say, 5 years.

And during this time, I turned to Dancing. I had already dabbled with irish soft shoe, ballroom, a dab of salsa and swing, free style boogie and  of course belly dancing from many years before. I knew I liked the freedom of body, the stretch on my limbs, the pull and challenge of my art, to express myself with NO words whatsoever. It was very liberating, and scary at the same time. Writing allows this little thing called editing, you see. Writing is also a solitary form, you don’t have to share a single semicolon or elipsis if you don’t want to. But Dancing… is unpredictable. You never know where it will take you.

Never know when a particular move, combined with a certain series of notes, or a passionate percussionist will draw spark and tinder out of you. Set you, literally, on fire.

Dancing frees me from convention, from control. It opens me, and empowers me. It heals me, and sometimes angers me too.

I came to a point where I realized I wanted to go further in my role as “follower”. I decided to try out the form that’s intimidated and awed me since I was a little girl-Argentine Tango.

I told myself, its not rocket science! How hard can it be?

HA. HAAAHAA.

I started Tango approx 3 years ago, and have had a hard time sticking with it, purely due to money and timing of getting to class (not a good time of night, not near my house, either.) But I love it like nothing I’ve ever loved. It fevers me, it challenges me.Tango is demanding. Period.

During this time of getting closer to Dance, Writing started to poke me in the ribs again. It’s been enough time, we need to reconcile, she said.

I missed you too, I said.  Terribly.

Eventually, I started very slowly to write a blog on a social networking site with friends from Burning Man who didn’t know about my Writer Past. I grew more confident, started sharing more. Dancing took a back seat, and waited with crossed arms.

Now I have both Muses, and they both hold a place in my heart I can’t imagine living without. But they don’t exactly live well, *together.*

I try and balance, but the expression and needs of Tango, sap all the words right out of me. I love the exercise, the flirting, the physicalness of the Art. I love how social it is, so far superior to working out at a gym. For me, anyway. I love the clarity Dancing brings-if the body likes it, it moves that way. If not, it hurts. It’s so simple that way!

Who knows if I’ll fall in love with more dance forms. I certainly hope so.

Please take the time to look at the videos, they are so amazing. Even if you’ve seen them before!

Photo credit to-

flamenco dancer

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Since I hadn’t been blogging here a year ago, you didn’t know about a Thing that I do. I do this Thing, you see. Everyone is good in certain ways, and bad in other ways. Or, to put it less judgementally, they soar in some ways, and drift gently down in other ways. I happen to soar, when it comes to pumpkin pie. From REAL pumpkins.

I developed this Thing years ago, when confronted with the knowledge that I, do not, enjoy cooking. I do not have the Thing that tells me when to add certain spices, how long to braise/sautee/bake/broil, or what flavors would bring out the best of the meal. I just don’t. I’ve heard from foodies the world over–how relaxing cooking is, how creative, how wonderful the sense of altruism: making art, enjoying it through the body, sharing it with others, and the pleasant aftereffects of indolence.

Trust me, while I enjoy eating, and fresh food is very important to me, I really am a baker. Give me the structure, the measurements. Give me sweets! or I shall surely perish, I cry. So somehow, it became pumpkin.

I’ve been doing this for 15 years now. Isn’t that crazy! 15 yesrs! And I’ve experimented with some wacky stuff in my time, as a tree-hugging dirt-worshipper. Sucanat (bleck) Fructose (yay!) Egg Replacer (meh) Almond Milk( ok, but pie spoiled QUICK), and the latest, Goats Milk!

I’ve engaged in drunken baking-so much fun. I’ve had people grow pumpkins for me-SO COOL. I’ve had mortal enemies, end up with pie, just because I can’t see denying them the Orange goodness. And, I’ve kept pie from ex-boyfriends who I was pissed at. Last sentence notwithstanding ;P

Some details for the ones who care-

I’ve largely replaced my original recipe from cream and 1/2 & 1/2 to fat free 1/2 & 1/2 only. No one needs that much heavy cream, seriously.I do not make my own crust, I buy at the store. Why? Because I make 20-30 of these each Fall, and give them away for Free. To Whom? The Bike shop, the Video Store, Work Colleagues, the Security Guard, not to mention the numerous families I know. And Mom.

So without further ado, I introduce my coveted, prized, famous pumpkin pie recipe, which is very long I know, but it’s because it has instructions on how to prepare the pumpkin itself.

So enjoy!

Pumpkin Pie (Read all the recipe first!)

Materials you will need:

¨  tongs

¨  potato masher

¨  large cook pot

¨  large mixing bowl

¨  Large knife

¨  Small knife

¨  Large sturdy spoon

¨  Colander

Food stuff you will need:

¨  10” round sugar pie pumpkin Qty 1 (2 cups of cooked pumpkin)

¨  pie shell from the frozen section of the grocery store Qty 1 (yes, I know they come in packs of 2)

¨  cinnamon 1 ½ tsps

¨  ginger ¼ tsps

¨  cloves ¼ tsps

¨  cardamom ¼ tsps or nutmeg, as you prefer. Try maple even!

¨  half and half 1 1/4 cup total (or ¾ cup half and half, ½ cup heavy whipping cream)

¨  sugar or fructose 1 cup ( with fructose, use a 1/3 less)

¨  3 eggs, or egg replacer if you prefer

Get a sugar pie pumpkin, about 10” round (smaller is fine, it just means you have to prepare more), from the grocery store. Bring it home and pet its lush contours by cleaning it externally. Take the pie shell out of the freezer and leave it out to defrost naturally.

Preparing the gourd:

Boil 4 cups of water in a large stewpot. DO NOT ADD SALT. Take a small and sturdy knife, and carefully carve out the stem. Do not throw away seeds! Most folks like pumpkin seeds, even if they don’t care for pie. After the stem is out, which you have thrown away, cut the pumpkin in half with the large knife. Scrap out the seeds with a strong spoon or ice cream scoop, and set aside in a bowl. Cut all pieces of pumpkin into 3-4” pieces (Square cut is easiest).(Note, if you want to skip the Long Hot Bath, you can use a deep potato peeler to remove the skins, but this is not necessarily faster, just a different method.)

The long hot bath:

Your water should be boiling now. Add pumpkin pieces carefully to boiling water. Let boil for 10-15 minutes, or until skins are soft. Remove pumpkin pieces from pot with a pair of tongs.

Put pumpkin pieces on cutting board, and carefully peel off skins.

Metamorphosis:

Once skins are removed, put the pumpkin pieces back in the boiling water. Make sure water covers pieces. Let water boil until pieces start to become very mushy. As they get mushier, apply pressure from the potato masher, gently pressing down as the hardness boils down. You can do this every 15 minutes or so, until you are able to really start mashing out the lumps. Once the consistency is like applesauce, leave it on boiling (approx 20 minutes) and do not use the masher anymore. This is to let the excess water boil off. Once most of the water is boiled off, turn off the heat and let cool down for a few minutes.

During this happy transition:

While you are waiting between mashing, you can be preparing several other factors. Firstly, pre-heat the oven at 425 degrees. Secondly, get out the large mixing bowl and start on the mixture that will accompany the orange beauty that will soon be your dessert.

Add the sugar/fructose to the bowl first, and then the eggs, half and half, whipping cream, and spices. Mix thoroughly, until there are no spice lumps. Set aside until pumpkin is ready.

Back to the pot:

Remove the pumpkin puree from the pot, and place it in a colander to drain off all excess water. Shake colander a bit. It should act exactly like applesauce at this point.

Unity

Measure out two cups of pumpkin puree, and mix with contents of mixing bowl. As for the excess, place in a bowl or ziploc bag, and freeze for future bakings. There is almost always some left over. If you are so inclined, you can use it for pumpkin bread.

Fireworks:

And now. The grand finale. Carefully pour the pre-heavenly mixture into the pie shell, which should be completely defrosted by now. Do this on a very flat surface, with no lip at the edge of where you are working, if possible. This next part is the easiest time to mess up everything, so be uber careful. Do not fill all the way to the top, as when you are transporting it to the oven, there will be some sloshing about, and you will need the extra ½ inch of space.

Go and open the pre-heated oven’s door, and slide out on the shelves to make it easier to get inside. Whatever heat you might lose in this process is minimal, so don’t worry about it too much. When you have filled the shell, ever-so-very carefully walk it over to the oven, and place it gently down on the rack. Even-more-so-gently slide the rack back into the oven. If you would like, you can take a small ladle and add some of the pumpkin mixture to the pie shell, now that it is level and in the oven.

Close the door, turn on the light, and immediately set the timer for 10 minutes ONLY. After 10 minutes, turn down the temp to 375 degrees exactly for one hour.

Go and meditate deeply, imagining the joy your taste buds will be feeling in such a short time. Life is good, when you have pie.

Aftershocks:

Remember to let pie cool for at least an hour, if you can stand to wait that long. It will give the pie time to congeal. Also, clean the kitchen when you are done. It’s considered polite in this country.

You should still have pumpkin seeds left over. Clean them off from the pulp, lay them out on a sheet of aluminum foil, and place foil on a cookie sheet. Salt liberally. Bake until brown on roughly 350 degrees. Voila!

Interesting Alternatives:

1.   Substitute Almond Milk for the half and half, and cream. Same ratios.Must be eaten within 3 days, as the milk spoils faster.

2.   Sucanat-not the fun ride you would think. If you use it, you have to cook the pie for an additional 15 minutes. That’s a guess.

3.   Egg Replacer instead of eggs-mix FIRST, don’t just throw in the powder and water.

4.   Have Fun with Ginger-Some people like a spicy pie. Heh. Heh.

5.   Spelt frozen crusts. Falls apart a bit, but generally good.We also like the gluten-free crusts!

6.   Teeny tiny pies-Vunderbar! Bought pre baked graham shells, about 3” across. So cute!

7. Goat’s Milk-Same story as Almond Milk, keep pie refrigerated.

Photo by Natalie Dee

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I have been on a weight loss program, Weight Watchers, since January.

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My whole life, I have felt that to truly love and accept myself, started with the body. I learned, too young,how to use my body as a weapon, a tool, a wedge, a barrier. It’s acted as a wall, or as a garden. I believe that as she grows old, when she gets injured, or is debilitated in any physical or emotional way,to slow down, give her a hand, and ride it out. Make adjustments. My body is not just a sum of parts, it is a finely tuned and magnificent orchestra. 

She is too precious to treat otherwise.

So over the years, I’ve noticed a few extra pounds here, and there. Nothing drastic, nothing quantifable. As in, “I had back surgery, so I gained 40 pounds.” Or, “I had a child, so I gained 30 pounds.”

It happened earlier this year. I went up my three flights of stairs, and I was out of breath. More so than usual I went to bend down and pet the cat, and the air sort of whooshed out my lungs. I was thinking, how strange. I bike every day, why should this wear me out so much.

I walked around my apartment, my mind listening to my body’s rhythms, not really paying attention to the dishes, the computer, the music playing. I didn’t see the view, didn’t hear the phone ring.

 And I could feel it. REALLY feel it. The burden. The extra weight. It wrapped around my heart, my waist, my legs. It was suffocating my flexibility, and it was building, slowly, almost imperceptibly.

I met with my friend RawrFantastica, and she looked AMAZING. She said, in a move both casual and intense, “Yes, I’ve lost 40 pounds for the wedding later this year.” I was astounded. If Rawr could do it, so could I. She and I have similar temperments around food and exercise, and I trust her implicitly.

I made the decision, I was going to lose weight. I was going to both unconditionally accept and love my body, AND make a drastic change. And I was going to do it alone.

I work in an office where many people are on WW, and in addition, they are a bit..inquisitive as to my life/business. I didn’t want to expose my new lifestyle choice, especially if I decided to quit, to commentary such as “Are you sure you want to eat that?  How much weight have you lost?”, etc, etc.

So I quietly joined, and only told a small handful of girlfriends. Who didn’t know each other. I kept it from my family, my best friend (this didn’t last long). It was strange. I originally wanted the discipline to come from Within, but as I did it, I certainly had trouble with isolation. I discovered several things throughout those first months, though–

1. I’d become an extremely emotional eater. This developed because of  stress.

2. Even though I’m pretty aware of nutrional value of food, I had no idea how to read, interpret or navigate fat content.

3. I did not know how to eat filling foods, that wouldn’t slow me down, or add more fat and empty calories.

4. Justifications, such as “Well, if this is the worse thing I am doing..then I’m okay!” is just a method to sabotage my current emotional state, because I am frustated at a lack of control over my life. I have a little rebellion, eat badly, then deal with it later.

All of these things haven’t lead me to be morbidly obese, but they HAVE led me to gain more weight than I ever have in my life, and get to the point where I am losing breath and flexibilty in my daily life.

So I am happy to say that after at least 6 months, the program DOES work for me. I’ve lost around 15 pounds, and keep dropping. I set new goals, and manage food very differently than ever before. I feel empowered. I feel successful. And now that I’m sharing it with the world, a little exposed and freaked out, but mostly good! *grin*

If you have weight stories you want to share, I would love to hear them. And for those of you who are fighting your own body demons, I say, Don’t give up! It’s worth it. Trust me. And, I support you, unconditionally.

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so you can imagine my happiness about hearing stats that our automotive market is starting to show clear signs of it’s un-usefulness in our culture. Frankly, if it doesn’t serve us as a whole, then I think we should reexamine these things regularly! As one of my favorite people, Paolo Lugari of Gaviotas once said,

“I don’t understand how you Americans can give a college degree without an expiration date on it. I mean, you learn it once, and then boom, you know everything there is to know about that subject? Please!”

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dennis-markatos/us-bike-sales-higher-than_b_207899.html

Photo credit to:

http://www.chinacycle.co.uk/albums/Iran/One_of_countless_conversations_with_passing_cars.jpg

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• Bunny Jam 2009!

I know that Cars are necessary for many people to get to– their jobs, social/family events,school, roadtrips! festivals, parades, running errands,vacations, etc. I use Cars for all these things too.(www.citycarshare.com) But I have spent quite of bit of my waking hours, and still do, on researching the effect Cars have on our ecological, emotional, physical, and cultural environment. The stats are quite clear.

Cars.Are.Evil.

Mind you, I was raised by a community of avid, passionate car lovers who raced the damn things, and I adore them(rally people and Cars) to no end. I started driving when I was 8 years old. I KNOW what I am doing behind the wheel. I am not talking about whether or not my driving style suits you. I am talking about the fact that I can get into any vehicle, and be intimately aware of its outer dimensions, so I can navigate the video-game-like quality in the public world called Other Drivers. I can also parallel park any vehicle pretty well. Reverse is my best gear, actually. *grin*

But I was always too cheap, or it was too inconvenient, or what do you know, I got in a fender bender, and I had no insurance and it was my fault (Hey! I was, like 20!) so I just gave up on having a car while living in the metropolis. This tradition of not wanting to take on more fiscal responsibility carried on for a few more years, because once I moved to the Bay Area, it is relatively convenient for public transit, and parking is something that drives people into therapy here. No joke.

So I became a proud pedestrian. Back then, who cared that my knees and hips hurt, and it took 3 times the amount of time to get anywhere, I was a PEDESTRIAN. I was CONTRIBUTING. My personal, emotional sacrifice was minor compared to the ecological and cultural benefits that my statement was having on the world. It became something more than my unwillingness to shell out cash and payments and tags and maintenance. It became part of my *life*style to say No to commuting. Say No to TimeSuck. Say No to road rage, Carjacking, and donations out my left-hand window for homeless dogs’ food.

Besides, I have a VERY impressive Car sitting resume for when my friends go out of town, and I mean this quite seriously. One friend and I have an elaborate system set up for her frequent travel-she drives south at 4 am, picks me up, we drive to the airport, she doesn’t pay to park it (WHAT did I tell you earlier?) and I get a vehicle to carouse around in. Pretty sweet deal.

So about 2 years ago, a friend of mine loaned me a bike to go to burningman (www.burningman.com) I had biked around Europe and fallen in love with this form of travel–the ambling, body-driven exposed kind that seduces one into truly experiencing the environment. It’s like listening to Japanese on your way to work on a CD player with cheap headphones, versus going into a cell store having a sale on the XunChi 138 in Tokyo. You are steeped and drenched in the experience.

I asked my friend if he wanted his bike back.

 He said, “Yes, soon.”

 9 months went by.

It didn’t take me 9 months to fall in love, however. It only took about 2 months. I named it Trusty Steed. For it was. Bulky, built for a boy, a veritable tank on the road. ok, I exaggerate. A LITTLE.

I parked Trusty one day at the BART station and went to stay overnight at my boyfriend’s house. By the next morning, it had been promptly stolen. I sat stunned, got angry, then got sad and cried. I spent 3 solid weeks looking at every single bike that went by, and felt a terrible sense of loss and longing. I called the original owner (we had worked out a ‘permanent loan’ situation), he said it was no big deal to him. It was to me, though. I thought I had tracked it down in a flea market, but as it turned out, it wasn’t mine. Only time I’ve asked for the police. It was a helpless kind of experience, needing an intermediary to talk to another human being.

I later got to chatting with the hot dog stand guy, and he told me that the person who steals bikes at this station (which is apparently 10 or more a DAY) lives right across the street! The cops don’t do anything because, and I quote from the police here, “we can’t catch him in the act.”

*throws hands up in disgust*

I decided to move on and purchase my own bike, which is scary, because bikes can cost quite a load of cash. I did some poking around, found a hybrid for $425, got outfitted (The Bent Spoke, Oakland, CA), went back to my favorite repair shop (www.mikesbikes.com) and got accessorized up the whazoo. First thing I did when I got home? Registered my new bike, T’la.

I ride to work every day now, and all over town. I take her places. I fuss over her, I clean her, and I am an extremely mindful and alert rider.When someone gets a new bike, I give them all the praise I would if someone bought a new car. Which I also get excited about, just not as much. When I’m dating someone who bikes, it makes me RIDiculously happy. I even arranged a group bicycle ride last summer. We stopped for pizza and beer. It was awesome.

(not my bike)

So somewhere along the line, I became a bicyclist, and I feel really, really good about it. I encourage dusting yours off, getting the rust out, and taking a ride. You wouldn’t believe the simplicity, brilliance, and wonder that can be found in each day.

Photo credits to-

http://www.promago.de/news/wp-content/xunchi2.jpg

.net/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/underwater-bicycles-shangha.jpg

http://hellforleathermagazine.com/weblog/RocketBike1.jpg

http://www.funis2cool.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/extraordinary_bicycles_01.jpg

http://www.flickr.com/photos/juliaguiliano/491936790/

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*raises her glass*

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I am blown away by this woman, and love her idea! I am going to do this to a hoodie for the spring and fall rides I take. YAY! Check out the amazing tutorial~

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For those of you who don’t know, and I envy your ability to not be seduced at this point,because the moment I tell you, you will say “Ohmygod! I totally love that! I want to do that!” and it will be all over for you.

 Santacon is an event in major cities all over the world, in December, usually on a Saturday. The concept is pretty simple: Dress as Santa, head to toe. Join at a gathering place. Begin the pub crawl. Go as long as you can. Hence the term “crawl”.

I flirted all day, I laughed my patootie off, and dodged the snowball fight. At one point, I had to stand on my stool while my friend Pink Buhny sat on it, and had to lift one leg so two people could squeeze under the table I was at, it was so crowded at the bar! It wasn’t usually THAT crowded though, throughout the day.

I was really impressed with the route and the organization. The fine citizens of SF were patient with us as we spilled into the streets around the bars. I especially liked being in the Mission. Visiting with girlfriends was another highlight~

Thanks for all the fun, I can’t wait to do it again!
Photo credit to Eddie Codel, who was on another route than I was*

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punk tango-If I could do this, I would call it a good day.

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