It’s embarrassing how much time has passed since my last post. Over a year and a half. My daughter’s first birthday set off a chain reaction, not the least of which was the dropping of her morning nap…and subsequently, my writing time.
Then came my own birthday, and the mind-fucking that was wrapped up in those shiny, innocent looking boxes. Thirty I had survived fine, though I might need to thank post-partum hormones. The spiral that began with my 31st surprised me.
But, oh! What a spiral! Gold leafed, glittered and coiled in all directions. Downward mostly, but swirling and dodging every which way, all at once. Those hormones turned on me.
Then there was the discovery of Purpose: a holistic nutrition program. But after almost a year of preparation, research, and interest accrued on my credit card, I withdrew. Oh, but I am so much thinner now. In my wallet, and in faith in things clearly too good to be true. But I’m fatter, too. In my skepticism. This strikes my hippie, alternative modalities loving nerve as a three year old dentist might…mercilessly, with a sadistic chuckle.
Happily, some residuals from the program experience lingered. I spent time reading, momming and feeling guilty about not writing. But I also planted a garden and harvested whole dinners from our city plot. I blame some of that reading. After Barbara Kingsolver and Michael Pollan, it seemed like the least I could do. Very suddenly, I became a cook at home foodie, an activist, a local food militant. This strokes my hippie-alternative nerve so much more lovingly.
The relief is I’m not drowning as much in new mom stuff, these days. My girl and her absorbant, quick-firing noodle still gives me pause, though, whenever I get cocky about what I know about the world.
It’s come down to this: my certainty is shrinking, my passion is growing. Family, food and phrase. This seems to about cover it, these days.
That spiral is beginning to straighten. In fact, it’s starting to look like a fork…or maybe a pen. A two pronged eating utensil with edible ink? No? Fine.
I write on the computer anyway.