the neighborhood

The Farmer's Market

There are three cucumbers in my fridge. I see them first thing in the morning as I open the door to grab the coffee. They lie in this pyramid formation on the 2nd shelf, still waiting for me to do something with them. I pour my cold cup of summer Joe, and start to think about what I can do with them. I’ve started to drink my coffee cold brewed and then cubes of ice in my cup. Good stuff. I’m not really hungry as I drink my cup of summer’s bold richness, sipping it really, savory every sip. Thoughts of eating cukes don’t fit with the rhythm of the morning, but here I am thinking about those 3 cucumbers sitting in my fridge.

I bought them last week at the Farmer’s market in the neighborhood. In the summer’s I try to eat by the season. I buy my food weekly, enough to last until the next market opens. I chop and stir and eat quiet well. By the time I run out, another market day comes and I start the whole process over. I spend less than $20 at the market a week. Right now, the market is rich with fresh picked foods. Zucchini, Squash, tomatoes, egg plant, carrots, radishes, snap peas, basil and thyme. There are yam breads and garlic, onions and cilantro…cucumbers.

The cukes are the residuals of last week’s harvest. I have a dish in mind while I finish my cup. I fill my water bottle with filtered tap water after putting the coffee cup in the sink. I need to do dishes if I am going to make my cucumber curry dish tonight. I am not a fan of washing dishes. I imagine that actually being motivated to a wash a dish as a transcended act, bringing me closer to enlightenment. To be present mind while washing dishes sounds like an ideal thing to learn. What I know about myself is that washing dishes is an impatient act. I want to be done before I’ve even started and have by default let them go a few days. My handylady has commented about how clean my apartment is…except the sink.

What does motivate me to wash the burly mass of too many glasses and pans are those three cucumbers in my fridge. They need to be eaten and I do love the curry dish. It starts out with mustard and cumin seeds snapping in a pan, and then onions and Turmeric. I have 1 tomato left, so I need to buy more at the market today. I’m thinking of using jasmine rice. A nice aroma for the dish. I’ve added a splash of Balsamic and white rice vinegar to the original recipe. It catches in the taste buds, lingering between sauce and rice. Good addition, I think.

I go outside and put out my farmer’s market sign. Invested neighbors place signs out in their front yards to let others know its open today. I’m one of those neighbors. I come back in and make a list of what I might want to eat into next week. I wonder which farmer may sell mushrooms. I need fresh basil for a dish later this week. An onion for sure, are Vidalias ready? I check the fridge, moving the three cucumbers to see if there are any other refugees from last week’s find. I finish my list taking my water bottle placing it beside me and begin washing the dishes with those 3 cukes in mind.

like a band-aid

I gave up the cat tonight. The cat is this furry little thing I babysat at my place for two months. A friend needed to unload her for a minute do to housing issues, and I decided why the hell not. Ever since the "Grad School" internship where I was constantly around animals, I felt this overwhelming need to own a cat. Having decided to move to London, ownership of an animal seemed inappropriate and down right selfish. Only other pet keepers will understand the need to have an animal in one's life, but here I was wanting a cat and unable to have one. Then WHAM, an opportunity. I get to have a cat live with me for two months - food, cat litter and the lot paid for. She just had to hang out with me. I was game. Seemed poetically appropriate for these moments of mine in between moving far away from here.

Tonight was the last night. My friend and I went out to dinner. Talked and shared and carried on layers of conversation. In the back of my mind was this cat leaving. She came back to my place, we packed up the cat's thing and she left - my friend and felion.

How do I feel? Sad. I hide it behind the relief that I no longer have to clean up cat hair. Let's face it - fur is hell to clean up. But, in the end, I will miss that cat who shared two months of my life. She reminded me that nothing is as permenant as this self...and this self is already missing a cat I babysat for two months.

porch steps

I’m sitting in the early morning, watching the neighborhood wake up. Cars take their slow turns in and out of the alleyway toward work and owners walk their dogs. A few foot travelers walk up the street turning right toward the bus stop for the morning commute somewhere else. Doors open and close, in the distance I can hear the screen door bang shut. It happens over and over again and I imagine it’s the home of the mother with 4 kids, getting them packed up for the babysitter while she goes to work.

Me, I’m sitting on the porch drinking my coffee getting motivated to go for a run. Something tells me today is going to be hot and humid. Though the morning is marred by grey skies and a soft chill from the dew on the ground, each moment passing brings a heat to the day. I want to go for a jog before my motivation succumbs to the weather.

Ah, but first the morning Joe on porch steps. I breathe in the earthy smell and spend my time watching and living and just being present in the moment. Then time passes and I realize I need to pass with it. I put down the empty cup, pick up the pen to record the moment, and then put on my running shoes.

good times

~gg

in the middle

Words lack their coherence these days. Flux, change, goodbyes and hellos collide and bounce. Thoughts pass by with layered feeling. This narrator is a loss for words. How do I describe the days of my life?

What can I say? Next week is the camping trip complete with tents, fire, and friends. I’ve been picking up extra shifts at work for the money AND the experience. Cleaning and packing slowly, trying to figure out what stays and what goes. I finally got my pass port – that was one long wait. Pictures of me unfold into documents, making me legal somewhere a long long way from here. This GoGo is about to turn 31-years-old. I’m completing another revolution around that sun. I am camping, I am packing, and I am moving!

And here I am in the middle of it all, enjoying my time. I like myself. I wake up every day to be a part of my story; I am excited to play a part.

Still, it’s a’lot.

I wanted to write about moving, about figuring out how one packs a life into two bags and a carry on, and about just having fun with wonderful people before I go.

It’s a little too much to pin down with words though. Before I can even grasp what’s happening, the whole scene seems to change. So, I’ve changed my medium, snapping photographs as a cathartic response to my time here. It’s really weird to be moving and still living in this city.

It’s too much for words really.

...about this town

Spending time about the town, wrapping fingers around camera,

I take my shot.

Sunday Scribblings: Astrology

I don’t know if astrology is legit. I mean, we just discovered a new dwarf planet, Eris, in our solar system. Doesn’t this mean the signs are off a little bit? Will people suddenly be born under the sign of Eris, and what will there traits be like?

With that said, I am under the sign of Cancer. Yes, I am a cancerian. In fact, my birthday is less than 15 days away….woot! Most of the traits of a cancer do not reflect my personality. I’m not all about your needs only. I don’t go around trying to complete others with my nurturing warmth. Don’t get me wrong, I care about folks, and my friends are the most important, but there is something about the care giver role of the Cancer that doesn’t jive with me. Yes, I said jive. My motto is, I don’t want save the world, but I will help it save itself.

What does fit is I am a person who needs to carry my home on my back. Where ever I live, my home needs to feel safe, secure, and a nurturing space. For myself and anyone who enters. I also am a freak for details for this move to London. I have spent months now trying to decide what needs to come with me because even on the road, when my home becomes the bags I carry with me, I need to know security, safety, and nurture are what’s inside those bags.

This has been beneficial. Moving across the sea has forced me into a predicament where I am downsizing what I need to feel these things. I find I can live without a lot of things…for now.

So what’s in my bag?

Nothing spectacular really. Clothes, necessities, and shoes. There is also the journal, the cameras, the pens, and chap stick. Don’t ask. What is not in my bag is worry, regret, fear, and apparently liquids over 3 ounces.

As for the astrology in it all. I like this notion of carrying my home, and creating a home that will carry me. As for the rest, I may or may not reflect the sign, but then again I can just blame it on the fact that they forgot to factor in Eris.