Knitting backwards.

Ernest Hemmingway said "There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." He also said "All you have to do is write one sentence. Write the truest sentence you know." Margaret Atwood said "A word after a word is power." "I didn't come to write my heart out. I came to write it in" says Andrea Gibson.

I sat at the table, typing, and crying. Suddenly effort eased and the story flowed. Before I could realize what was happening, out from my fingertips came one giant aha. It loomed before me like a Genie fresh from the lamp. Amazed, suspended, I admired its obvious size and remarked that it could have hidden for so long. Tears stung my eyes. A moment of silence passed in grief and awe; mourning what I lost, honoring that I lived to loose it. And then I continued.

I was telling the story of my grandmother. I was talking about the granny square blanket. I've been trying to find the words for this story for years. And now, they were here.

And then the fire alarm, storming through the silence. Rude. Not great timing.

You say, "But its probably nothing..." while you pull on pants and try to find your bra. "Should I just wait it out?" as you pull one cat from under the couch, the other one collapsing in panic as you approach, and stuff them into their carrier. I picked up my money and thought "nah" I reached for my project bag, but said "This will be over in two minutes" I paused at the door and thought "Do I need my water bottle? I don't have enough hands anyway", and left.

The moral of the story? Always bring your water bottle and craft work! Always have two bucks on you!
We were locked out for three hours. A sprinkler in someones apartment burst. A random accident that probably isn't so random when you take a look at all the plumbing problems we have in this building. So in addition to your water bottle and two dollars, make sure you have renters insurance (although, probably, there go you're two dollars).

It wasn't so bad. In fact, it was a little like show and tell; neighbors showed off their babies and introduced their pets. Bebe the Lhasa Apso with one eye, the crate full of rats, a cat named Agnes wrapped in a towel.

I was hungry. I hadn't noticed how hungry I'd become. When finally home I decided I needed to make the easiest thing possible. I made a one pot wonder (with a side skillet of salmon). The only thing I did different was sugar snap peas sliced instead of regular peas, and no cream- instead olive oil + butter with just regular ol' white cheddar.

Wow. What a meal. It was so beautiful, so delicious, such honest comfort food. I was so satisfied.

In addition to writing my heart out (writing my heart in) I was blocking my completed granny squares, preparing them for their up coming photo shoot and internet debut. And here's how that went

Successive levels of dishevelment. I am proud of them for taking turns though.

Tomorrow I return to school. I wasn't sure I'd go back for the summer, because enrolling now meant paying out of pocket, which made me rave in bitterness. I frequently forget to be grateful; we have the money for me to do this, thanks to my nifty budgeting. Also, education is so precious, a privilege denied many. I should never be anything but grateful.

Learning the response of gratitude is not unlike undoing a yarn project. You make a mistake, you learn to knit backwards, and you try again.

Thank you for reading.
-A.H.

Emergency Scramble

I'll just jump right to it. I'm in a place where most food sounds just awful.
Or it will sound delicious till its in front of me, or till I'm three bites in, and then it sounds (smells, tastes) awful. This happens from time to time and its a major deal; either its the starting pistol for my eating disorder (ED), or its a red flag that lets me know ED is already up to some stuff. When its hard to get enough calories old muscle memories kick in; when my body and brain aren't being nourished my anxieties are impossible to reason with. This creates a neat little feed back loop that makes life tricky.

SO I'm an emergency scramble to find recipes that are pretty, fun, and easy. Deliciousness, of course, goes without saying, but like I mentioned above, my delicious radar is pretty fickle lately.

To be honest, in this Emergency Scramble to Head Off The Eating Disorder At The Pass, the operative word here is easy. Something that wont involve a lot of thought or effort. I'm basically tricking myself into eating. And that's okay. It isn't ideal, but its okay. We do what we have to do to start a positive spin on the snow ball.

Today I made tuna on toast and I'm going to tell you about that now.

My favorite brand is called Sustainable Seas; the 100% pole caught option is in a green can:-)
I fill my tuna with veggies, herbs, and olive oil. This makes it a much more robust mix; it will last you longer, and it really packs in the nourishment.

These are the ingredients I used.
2 whole green onions
1 celery stick
a freaking fist full of cilantro
a wedge of lime (could have used more but whatevs)
3 cloves of garlic (could have used more of this too.)
only a little bit of salt. That bowl is just for the picture.

Not pictured; chili powder and paprika. Feel free to add mayo, veganese, mustard, whatevs.

Those tomatoes will be place directly onto your toast. Once the toast has been achieved, drizzle some olive oil on it, then lay the tomato slices on. Now, while those three are getting acquainted, mix your veggies in with the two cans of tuna. Drizzle more olive oil; we're looking for good fats here to help our brain, our joints, our skin, everything basically.
Sprinkle on salt and seasonings AND BOOM

You have something amazing to eat at the window while you watch the cars.

There are endless variations on this old standby; my favorite involves the addition of black olives and pickles, swap out the paprika and chili powder of cayenne and dill. Slice up and avocado to smash in there and clutch your pearls, you've got a masterpiece.

Thank you, who ever you are, where ever you are, for reading.
-A.H.

Jammed.

Ailment; stagnation and self pity.

It may have started with an purchase of accidentally decaf coffee.
It may have started with the cold and rain well after Mother Damp Earth was supposed to wake the soil.
But I think it was the decaf coffee that started it all; tired and confused, we kept asking each other "Did your head hurt today?" kept attempting to have conversations that were patch-worked together and eventually just dropped off. When I saw the label on the coffee I laughed out loud. We high fived for not getting into a single fight.

While it may have started with the decaf coffee, it persists to something deeper. A funk. That might be putting it lightly.

The confusion reached into my school and shook up my stored knowledge and all the pieces flew everywhere. I couldn't remember slopes. Or simple tissues of plants. But I once knew. Once.

I briefly entertained the idea of just sticking to the decaf, seeing this come-down all the way through, but decided that with school I couldn't risk it. I'm back on the wagon (or off the wagon) and the fog is beginning to lift, but the funk is not.

Today on my to do list was; Talk to financial aid because we need more money, Call university administrations to ask about requirements, do homework so you don't forget simple tissues again, eat. All those things cause an avalanche of anxiety under my ribs, an achy feeling, like dragging a weight for a long distance. What if they laugh at me? I thought. Why would we want someone like you? They might ask. Or they might just feel sorry for me. Poor girl, she'll never make it.

Then I began to go after my hair, my skin. Why can't I be pretty? I whined with my head on my books.
I wish I could write, I thought. I wish I could write I wish I could write. Agony. Not writers block but a wall. Too much wind and the words wont land. Everything is jammed up, I thought.
Jammed.
Jam.

I should make jam.

Janelle Monae's new video .
Put it on repeat; I'm my own private dancer.

And I made jam.

I neglected to measure the Kumquats. If you cup your hands together, its about one and a half of those.
Slice, seed, simmer, sugar. Success.

The sugar I used was coconut sugar, which gives everything it touches a caramel brown color.
I also added a dash of Cardamom, the Queen.

Kumquats are mercilessly sour, so they're the perfect choice for jam that isn't too sweet. They're bright color and cheerful scent lifted my mood right away, as citrus is wont to do.
Kumquats will draw money and success, and their sour flavor stimulates digestion and aids the liver.
This jam will mooove you. 

The citrus lifted me, but I needed some roots. It seemed appropriate, with all this rain and damp, all the earth worms I've been rescuing. Something needed to sink deep, at the same time that it needed to reach up and feel the wind.

In search for more color I made a hundred beets that stained everything crimson.
We ate them all.
Typically I like to toss whatever is about to be roasted in some oil, but since we were out, I added a bit of water to the bottom of the pan, threw in two Bay leaves, tossed them in Thyme and let them go.
Everything smelled of dirt and spice. Perfection.


Prescription; Color. Spice. Dirt. Warmth in-spite of the wet. Eat seeds till you sprout leaves.

-A.H.