A Week Without Driving: Days 3 & 4. Slippery Spokes

I might have told you that i've come down with a case of poison oak. On the face. It's now creeping a cruel course down my neck.

And it's posing an interesting dilemma as i carry out my week without driving.

Should i wear the bike helmet, or not?

On normal occasions i don't mind taking the dork-route and wearing it religiously. This head has to provide for the rebelangel, after all. But seeing as how i've got a terrible allergy to anything even posing as poison oak, i risk the horror of recontamination if i wear it now.

So for now, i'm not wearing it. The Portland hipsters who don't ride bikes will consider me cooler, without the hat-head and the corny white-stickered headgear. And the hipsters who do ride bikes will scoff, sneering 'amateur' as i pass them by.

Revolutionary Giveaway: Tea for Singles

I just can't help it.

Single Edition gave me some free samples of Revolution tea, and i have to share with all of you. The tea and this blog share a name, after all. Or at least they share some similar concept.

Write me and tell me why you need this small slice of relaxation, and the Revolution teas are yours.

Lovely Photos

Many thanks to Toni Greaves for taking these beautiful photos of me and Indie! Some of them might appear in a film about the food industry in the U.S., so stay tuned. But for now, they're gonna be all over my blog.

As if this blog wasn't enough...

I am now blogging about dual-immersion schooling for the Oregonian's site. What this gig lacks in compensation, i hope it will make up for in credibility. I aim to be something of a local parent resource on dual-language immersion programs in Portland, and i figure having a forum on the site for the largest newspaper in Oregon couldn't hurt.

If you grew up in a home where more than one language was spoken, i imagine you know the incredible advantages it has given you in your lifetime. Even if your other language was Swahili or some other language that is not necessarily spoken on the mean streets of Chicago or P-town.

If you didn't grow up like this, then you too likely know the the incredible advantage that your bilingual friends possess. Americans are way behind the 8-ball on this one, and we have to change that, one little revolutionary at a time.

So add this to your reading list, if you are so inclined:

Oregonlive's Spanish Immersion blog

Revolucion!

A Week Without Driving: Day Two

So maybe i've been just a little bit spoiled, with this having a car thing and all.

Without one, i am much less likely to leave the house for any old reason. I see my roomie Sascha go through this all the time -- the needing to get somewhere, and the deep heavy sighs at knowing it's not as easy as just hopping in the ride and turning the key. I've been home all day -- but that could also be due to the drunken biking i did last night and the poison oak that's popped up all over my face. It's been a haggard day, and swollen eyes are not the cutest.

So this helmet and bike bag i've been using have been sitting on the table all day, since being plopped there last night.

A week without driving

So here is what is happening:

The kid is gone.

I have no real gainful employment, save scribbling on this forum.

The fridge is full and there is plenty of... o wait. The chicken feed and chicken wire i need might cut into this plan. We shall see.

But i am resolved to leave my car in the driveway for the next week. Plenty of people go without cars all the time and bike or take the bus, so why can't i? In this picture you can see i have no shortage of trusty steeds to rely on -- thus, no excuse.

So for the next week, stay tuned for my updates on Not Driving. I already bike quite often, but this is a new level. If i'm headed downtown, i will have to start learning the real ins and outs of the number 19 and 72 buses. Or hope for a ride from friends. Does that count?

Ok, so maybe i'll go get that 20-pound bag of chicken feed, and then start after that...

Boyfriends: how young is too young?

I walked into the kiddo's preschool the other day and three of the girls (including mine) were teaming up on the new boy named Elijah. They were all taking turns kissing him while he ping-ponged between them, looking like he was hoping to bounce out of their giggly circle.

The first crush has come earlier than i had hoped, but should i be all that surprised?

Then today, it just so happens that my sister reminded me about my own sordid past with boys. She told me my five-year old daughter had passed on the story of kissing Elijah by putting her hands on her own face, rolling her eyes, and breathlessly spouting "I can't believe I'm telling you this," like she's already some tween who swoons at the thought of her crush.

"Like mother like daughter," my sister said, while her husband yelled from the background, "Quit kissing boys in front of your kid!" But i assure you, this single mama is most discrete.

What's even more scary is that it might really just be in her genes to do that stuff, with little prompting in my present life:

Danny White was my kindergarten crush. He had sandy-blond hair and ripped jeans and shared his name with a Dallas Cowboy. I followed him around the kindergarten, even though he made a "yuck" face every time i got too close.

Then there was Brian Hagler, my spiky-haired sixth grade boyfriend who hauled his fourth-grade brother out for a double date with my third-grade sister. (Uhhh, don't know how our parents sanctioned this...) After a movie Brian and i escaped to the apartment stairwell, where fourth-grade brother and third-grade sister caught us in the throes of our first kiss. My sister will never let me forget it.

Then there was Andre, who stole a cubic zirconium ring from his mom to give to me. When i eventually broke things off with him, he threw a kickball into my face and there had to be a parental sit-down at school.

My sis and i were laughing our heads off today about all this business, but you can see where patterns begin at a young age, that could be repeated into adulthood. So should i be doing more to ensure she doesn't get too boy crazy?

Suggestions, please. If these first mental encounters with boys are any indication, i am not much of the ideal study.

The Rebel crosses the line: is she a racist?

This story is painful to tell. I'm almost embarassed that it actually went down.

But i am going to share it with you all, in hopes of finding some way to deal with it. I've told you before that the name of this blog is "Raising a Revolutionary" because i seem to have produced the most rebellious little angel the world could know.

But most of the time, i think all of her rebellion is really just some big attention-getting scheme.

We were in the car at the airport yesterday, just her and me. She was about to fly off for three weeks with her grandparents, and we were spending a few moments together alone. A lady was loading a baby with cute pink fingernails, coffee-colored skin, and a tuft of sweet baby fluff into a car next to where we parked. I said something like, "look at that cute little baby over there," to my rebelangel. She sighed, and with a mischievious look, responded "I don't like brown people."

O. My. God.

A few weeks ago we talked about Dr. King and how he helped make sure all kids could go to school together.

A few weeks before that she'd been at the birthday party of one of her favorite friends, who is a lovely shade of caffe-con-leche.

And one of her favorite things to do is enjoy a clandestine bowl of ice cream with one of my favorite friends' husbands -- who is a shade of tawny brown.

During that talk about Dr. King i called them "brown people" because i don't like the term "black" to describe someone who really is not "black" at all. So here she was, parrotting my term and twisting it around, knowing full well it would piss me off.

So should i let it? Or should i just know that it was something she said to get a rise out of me, and i should just let it go?

In my dismay, i told her harshly that that is not the way we talk about people, just because they are different. I tried to explain that how would she feel if someone didn't like her, just because she has yellow hair and blue eyes. And i reminded her of all her brown friends, who would be sad if they heard her say such things. (This reminds me of my radio show with Damali Ayo, an activist who speaks out against the concept of having the "token black friend." Perhaps pointing out who our dark-skinned friends are is in this category, but it's also teaching a humanizing lesson in this case...)

She got a little choked up when i mentioned her favorite friend and her favorite ice cream conspirator. So i hope the admonishment hit home.

Like i said, i think she acts the rebel part just to get a rise out of me. This time, it really worked. But i hope she walked away knowing that somethings are just not ok to be a rebel about. I can handle the fact that she's a lifelong vegetarian who is curious about meat. I can handle that she likes Hannah Montana shirts over the organic cotton one i bought her. But this is too much, and i hope she gets that.

Repost:

We hate our enemies to provide ourselves with excuses for possible failure.

I posted this some time ago, and it just seems to be relevant all the time.

A Good Kind of Storm

It's nice outside and life is like one big mad storm.

But a good storm -- like one where you and your friends stream outside to dance in the rain, spilling beer and flinging off the flip flops.

One where you forget that two hours have gone by and suddenly you notice your fingers have gone all pruny. That kind of mad storm.

I've been off the job for about a week and a half and it also feels like five minutes. Life moves so quickly when you are not watching the clock and missing out on all the sunshine behind a desk. That is not to say life is all grand and i have all the money i could ever want. The car still needs new brakes and the credit card companies keep calling, but i could almost say i almost have all the freedom i ever wanted.

My parents have been in town this week and that's meant lots of shopping and eating and of course, a nightly nightcap to keep us all sane. But this time my dad and i have also been attending the Green Cities Conference put on by the National League of Cities, and it's been pretty good fun.

People from all over the nation are here to tour Portland and laud its many green benefits. And there is almost nothing i like more than lauding Portland. My dad is here with a handful of members from the Rapid City city council, to figure out ways to make (one of) my hometown(s) more sustainable. It's good to see the word is getting out to even the nether regions, and that Portland is something of a test case.

Add all that to my newfound freedom and ability to get out in the world a bit, and i've been having a grand week and a half.

Propers

Another nice thing has happened. Check out my single mama spotlight on singleedition.com.

A little about me

I got this idea after reading Canadian Bald Guy's post on his blog about single parenting. (Shout out, since this thing is all about networking!!)

If you're just tuning in to my site because of Modern Single Momma, thanks for checking it out! If you stumbled upon it another way, be sure to check out her blog for a Who's Who of single parents on the web.

I want to use this post to allow you to get to know me. This site is about self-sufficiency, single parenting and social change.

I write a lot about self-sufficiency, because it's getting more and more crucial for all of us. If you haven't already starting doing things like growing food and changing your own oil to save a little cash (and to help the environment too, in the case of the garden), then i believe you will be soon. The state of the economy and the environment are making it so.

If you're interested in this topic, check out these posts:

Victory Garden

Self-Sufficiency

Greening Halloween

This is also a blog about my life with my rebel of a daughter, and how i'm learning to be a true revolutionary by raising one!

Stories about her rebel soul can be found here:

Rebellion Among Rebels

My Kid is Pimping Me Out!

Co-Sleeping

The Hannah Question

And finally, this blog is about social change.

I just lost my job as a television producer and writer, thanks in part to the economic downturn. (By the way, i'm now out on the freelance market, and loving it! ) But workplaces began deteriorating long before this crisis gave companies an excuse to abuse the worker. Check out these posts if you want more:

Changing Your Workplace

Be Happy You Have a Job

Using Our Gifts

Thanks for visiting, and happy reading! Revolution time!

Ups and downs

The good news:

I'll be featured on this site this week, in a who's who of single parents.

The bad news:

Freelancing is hard. Doors are slammed shut right after you get the chance to sidle inside. Or sometimes they are not even opened.

But the house is somewhat clean, a load of black dirt is arriving on a little white truck this afternoon, and life goes on.

I'll Rise

There is so little i could gurgle out the wordhole to explain the happenings of today. So i will let the righteous words of Maya Angelou (via Ben Harper) do it for me:

You may write me down in history
With your bitter twisted lies
You may trod me down in the very dirt
And still like the dust
Ill rise

Does my happiness upset you
Why are you best with gloom

Cause I laugh like Ive got an oil well
Pumpin in my living room
So you may shoot me with your words
You may cut me with your eyes
And Ill rise
Ill rise
Ill rise

Out of the shacks of historys shame
Up from a past rooted in pain

Ill rise
Ill rise
Ill rise

Now did you want to see me broken
Bowed head and lowered eyes
Shoulders fallen down like tear drops
Weakened by my soulful cries
Does my confidence upset you
Dont you take it awful hard
Cause I walk like Ive got a diamond mine
Breakin up in my front yard
So you may shoot me with your words
You may cut me with your eyes
And Ill rise
Ill rise
Ill rise

Out of the shacks of historys shame
Up from a past rooted in pain

Ill rise
Ill rise
Ill rise


So you may write me down in history
With your bitter twisted lies
You may trod me down in the very dirt
And still like the dust Ill rise
Does my happiness upset you
Why are you best with gloom
Cause I laugh like Ive got a goldmine
Diggin up in my living room
So you may shoot me with your words
You may cut me with your eyes
And Ill rise
Ill rise
Ill rise

Out of the shacks of historys shame
Up from a past rooted in pain

Ill rise

Ill rise

Ill rise

Amy Goodman in Portland

Life is sweet when you can meet one of your she-roes.

I "met" Amy Goodman yesterday when she gave a talk at the Bagdad Theater in Portland. I saw her last year too, but that time the RebelAngel acted like such a handful (with us in the front row) I had to escape to the balcony to dole out some discipline. Then i went home and drank wine straight from the bottle.

This time, i left the girl at grandma's and volunteered at the KBOO booth. I snapped this picture while i was supposed to be womanning the hallway, where Amy's line of followers were waiting for her to sign their books. I also slipped her one my snazzy new freelancer business cards, for whatever it is worth. She was in and out of Portland within three hours, so i doubt she even had time to process my offer to freelance anytime, anywhere for Democracy Now!

But it's still a good day, when you get to meet one of your she-roes.

Easter

Holiday times are always a little confusing, if you're a person rooted in individualism.

Parents know we are not raising our children in a bubble. Traditions are easily imparted on the very young through a trip to the grocery store or a visit to a public school. How is a kid not going to catch on to the fact that millions of kids are getting candy and other treats, on a holiday known as Easter?

I've written on other holidays about how we manage traditions vs. consumerism in our house. Religioustolerance.org has been a great resource for me to explore the roots of traditions and find ways to explain them to the little one. If you haven't seen the movie Zeitgeist yet, definitely check it out. It also gives you an idea of the universalism in all religions, and how if you're hatin on one, you're probably hating on all of them.
This from Religious Tolerance:

"Many religious historians believe that the death and resurrection legends were first associated with Attis, many centuries before the birth of Jesus. They were simply grafted onto stories of Jesus' life in order to make Christian theology more acceptable to Pagans. Others suggest that many of the events in Jesus' life that were recorded in the gospels were lifted from the life of Krishna, the second person of the Hindu Trinity."

In our house, Easter is a welcome holiday, because it gives us a few different things to do with our eggs. You need to get creative with eggs when you have chickens. You're always looking for something else to do with them. The brown eggs our lovelies give us turned out with these deep colors when we dyed them -- so lovely for spring. Later, after we egg hunted and ate chocolate, we watched a movie together and the RebelAngel took pictures of the dog.

And whether you love or hate holidays, or just hate their implications, sometimes it's just a good excuse to spend some quality time.

Solar City

This story might just make you get up and do the hula, like my nephew here.

It's about a place touted as being the United States' first solar-powered city.

Beautiful.

A breath of fresh air...

... time to exhale

'Someday baby

when i am a man

and others have taught me

the best that they can

i'll buy me a suit

and cut off my hair

goin to work in tall buildings'


Some days you're down.

You're standing outside Little Caesar's looking at your kid and wondering if you'll be able to pay for that five-dollar pizza tomorrow, since soon you'll be out of work.

Other days you're up.

You've accepted that pizzas will no longer fly from the sky from your toiling in the suburbs, and moved on. And it just so happens, the day after that last gasp is one big breath of fresh air.

That's the way it's been today. O, i knew i wouldn't be crying and sipping all day from a big bottle of Vendange, but i didn't know today would actually be progressive. But now that i've lived through much of this day, i know now more than ever that this is a move i was meant to make. The song above was shown to me several months ago, in a mix CD that Sunshine made. The lyrics, and so many other small details of life have been encouraging me to do what i eventually did, but had to be forced to do. I suppose i just refused to listen to the cues. But now that i'm here, life is pushing me along.

The things that have come about, one day after ending employment:

- A request from Single Edition to do an interview about my life as a single parent
- A shout out from the wonderful women at iHeart Single Parents, to be one of their "Single Parents to Watch" in an upcoming article
- An offer to do freelance script writing for a four-month project

- A free tax preparation from Abbot Tax Service, because i am unemployed.

So no, i won't say 'goodbye to the sunshine

goodbye to the dew

goodbye to the flowers

and goodbye to you

goin to work in tall buildings.. '

Workplaces that suck

You're contemplating your career. Along comes a job that seems glamorous, fun, and fairly well matches your skill set. But to succeed at the job, you must:

- Work nine to ten hour days, with lunch at your desk
- Work holidays, even Christmas and Thanksgiving
- Work weekends
- Know that four months out of the year you can't take time off
- Deal with constant deadlines, and produce a product EVERY DAY that makes you feel like you've run a marathon EVERY DAY
- Work any time something bad happens that allows everyone else to stay home (like the Arctic Blast ).
- Handle delicate life-and-death issues with sensitivity, as well as sensationalism

Sooo...

would you take the job? I am writing this from the desk i have inhabited for the past three years. (Ok, so i've moved around to different desks, but you get the picture) I am compiling this list because (if you haven't figured out from my other posts), i am more than ready to break out of television news. For a person who works behind the scenes, it is a thankless job, and then just when you've started to hit your stride, you might get let go.

I interviewed Ellen Bravo, author of "Taking on the Big Boys: Why Feminism is Good for Families, Business, and the Nation" a couple weeks ago for a show i did for Bread and Roses on KBOO.

She told me that when you're looking for a new job, you might not have the leverage to actually try to change the list of faults that i've named above. And you might not even find a good workplace in your skill set, to avoid the pitfalls named here.

But what you can do, when you feel your workplace sucks, is to find ways to make it better. Bravo encourages people to band together, whether it's as part of a union, or just a small collection of souls who want to change things in a workplace. She says finding just one other like-minded person can mean the difference between despair and total empowerment.

I am out of here in just a couple hours. It could not come sooner. I don't know, if i could have stayed, if i would have had the guts to work for change in my workplace.

But in the typical motherly fashion, i guess i will say, to those whose workplaces suck, to do as i say, not as i do, and get out there and find your like-minded co-workers who will work for change with you.

It's your life. You might as well make it as happy as you can.

Agonizing

Two.

More.

Days.

It's that slow.

Spent the last two days hoeing and weeding and churning the compost, during the most beautiful three days of the year. The RebelAngel and i spread seeds in the trenches of a few of our most fertile and ready beds, before the chickens came and busted it all to hell an hour later. It's obviously time to build some barricades for our three squawking darlings. It was so idyllic but in the back of my mind there was always that thing...

That going back to work thing. Only two work days left. Eighteen hours within those same walls. With spring coming and the self-sufficient feeling that comes with it, i am ready to bust out. So many people told me that when things like this happen, much better things come out of it. I didn't know how to respond let alone believe it when i heard it, but now i think it know what they were talking about. I feel that better things are on the horizon, where the RebelAngel is the benefactor of a happier mama, who has more time to get totally filthy, while we blow bubbles and dig in the dirt. And build fences for chickens.

The Last Gasps

I'm pretty good at moving.

I've been doing it my whole life. When i was three we packed up and left Minnesota, never to return again. After i'd lived in five states and one foreign country i came back to go to college there, but i am getting ahead of myself.

The point is, i've been moving around since before i could remember, so packing a box or two is really no big deal.

Except when you're packing for a trip you didn't really sign on to take.

Except when you know it means someone is taking away your livelihood.

At work today i packed a red copy paper box full of the old notebooks, scribblings, story ideas and pictures i've gathered over the past three years here at channel 12. I will work the last two days of my tenure here without that full desk drawer of crap. Then it will probably sit in my bedroom collecting dust for a while, before i around to filing it away.

It's a monumental step, more than a real ball-buster of a task, this packing up the desk. It signifies my freedom from the corporate world while at the same time makes me feel like i am at the edge of a cliff, about to pitch over.

Tonight is the last television news program i am going to produce, at least for a while. Afterward my weekend peeps are throwing me a barbeque -- the perfect sendoff since it is so freaking beautiful outside.

Later i will tip a glass on my fresh cut lawn, to the next step, and to moving that box of office crap into my home office...

Twitter Makes You More Productive

I knew there was some reason i found myself geeking out til the wee hours, when the last bits of a long story needed to be finished so i could go to bed. I was working on my productivity.

The next time your boss starts leaning over your shoulder while you're tweeting your followers about what you're having for lunch, just tell them it's making you a better worker.