The Sweet Spot

In what seems like a different lifetime, I sang a lot of funerals. It started in 1998, when, unmarried and seven months pregnant, I sang a full Catholic mass for my friend's mom. I'm also not Catholic.

I was asked to sing many of them over the years and found that I actually really liked it. It was an opportunity to serve people in a unique way that I seemed to be wired for, connecting to and expressing grief. It was all because of this special place I found inside myself. It was all because of the sweet spot.

I found a space in between the welling up of the eyes with tears and full out crying. Inside that space, I was able to let my soul come out of my mouth. Such a powerful space it is, with such healing power, both for me and for those whom I was serving.

It's been a long time since I sang a funeral. But I am seeking that sweet spot in my current state of existence. The spot where I can fully feel yet stay firmly on the precipice of the pit of full on tears. The space where I can heal myself and be of the most service to others.

Community - The Best Harvest of All

This year was a successful year in the garden.  Not for the cornucopia of vegetables and fruits, overflowing. That part was an utter failure. The success was in the incredible community that we planted and cultivated right in our own back yard. We may not have zucchini for miles or months of tomatoes to can and freeze, but we will never be hungry.

Living The Dream

2013 has been rough so far. We've had enough insult and injury for a decade, it seems. No day is without it's little earthquake or heartache.

During times like these, I find it difficult to answer the question we hear a gazillion times a day "How are you doing?" Lately, I've taken to responding "Living the dream!" 

Sure, sometimes it comes out a little sarcastic but I am sarcastic.

In addition to being sarcastic, though, I am intensely aware that I really am living the dream, even on days it seems like a nightmare.

I have the amazingly good fortune of being married to my best friend on this planet with whom I feel a sense of safety I never thought possible in my previous life. Even when we are upset with each other, the sense of permanent, persistent love is palpable. 

I have the incredible task of raising five beautiful children, each with their own set of needs, talents, and proclivities. I remember once asking God to "expand my territory." Boy, did He! Even on days when my patience has grown thin, I am amazed by the immense love I feel for all of them, mine or not, and grateful for the assignment.

I have a challenging and interesting career. I am able to learn something new every day. I am able to effect change in increasingly larger ways. I get to work in partnership with one of the best companies in the world. Even on days when it feels like I could drown in the politics and the normal goofiness that every company spews, I am in awe of what I have been able to accomplish in spite of so many roadblocks, and excited about the many opportunities that my future holds.

I have a home that I love that is so often filled with laughter and smiles. I have an exceptional community of family and friends who challenge, support and love me. 

As I write this all out, I am overcome by my incredible good fortune. Although I won't promise not to ever say I'm living the dream sarcastically, I can promise to be thankful every time I do.

You Can't Always Get What You Want - But You Get What You Need

Earlier in 2013, I had set a goal for myself to do roller derby.  I had many reasons for wanting to do this, the most prominent of which was the desire for community with awesome, kickass, grab-life-by-the-balls people. Sadly, a number of events have made me declare it is probably never going to happen.

I hate when this happens, when I have to cast aside a plan.  Totally pisses me off.

But I digress.

Somehow I managed to achieve my goal without the benefit of skates.

Back in February, a dear friend of mine hosted one of her famous Estrogen Fests. She introduced me to a new group of local ladies whom I now affectionately refer to as my coven. They are smart, funny, challenging and always at school events, so no more going in alone.

Mr. T and I were recently at a local event, a Battle of the Bands that Triple Threat was playing in. We had invited a few friends to join us in cheering her on and then a few more wanted to know what we were doing and decided to join us, too. As the band began to play, our group of friends joined us in the middle of this public park, cheering and dancing and kicking ass. Grabbing life by the balls. Being our community.

Tiny Victories

I have been neglecting a blog post about my garden. I could prattle on about being busy and tired and blah blah blah, but I won't. I will simply say that so far, I have experienced a LOT of failure this year.

To be fair, this is our first season in Shangri La House and I have had to get to know the land. The spot I originally had thought would be best for some elevated garden beds ended up being way too shady from our massive maple tree and too marshy due to a nearby storm sewer. I had no idea the way our untreated yard (who wants to grow their own only to put in more chemicals?) would provide respite for countless weeds and how those weeds would infiltrate the beds, threatening to choke out the good plants.

But yes, fail I have. Every plant I attempted to start from seed in the greenhouse died. I dropped an entire seeded tray face down on the patio directly after having sown it. I planted seeds directly in the ground that were washed away by a tumultuous spring storm. And more that were washed away by an even more tumultuous early summer storm.

But there are small victories: the upside down cucumber plant that is now boasting half a dozen flowers and the evidence of a soon-to-be cucumber and the herb garden that I married into an existing perennial bed amongst the mums and echinacea, throwing in a spare pepper plant. And tonight, the joy I felt as I discovered a tomato and a basil plant, nearly overcome from weeds and an overzealous rose bush. I had given those seeds up for dead and here they were, fighting to survive.

I cleared away the weeds and praised those tiny, brave plants.

Today, I am victorious.

Therapeutic Gardening

The soft breeze caressing my shoulders, warm with the sun. Rich, loamy soil coating my fingertips. Small moments of care that magically turn into sustenance.

I find myself turning to my garden more and more as this crazy season unfolds. Each day, I return from the office, head spinning with the busy-ness, the politics, the technical details. Each day, I head for my garden and spend a moment surveying the progress, pulling a weed or two, giving water, saying hello. Sometimes, I run for Mr. T. and make him look, too.

This spring at Shangri La House has been so lovely, watching the landscape reveal itself to us. Each week, something different has been in bloom, each taking the spotlight and then bowing out for the next performer.

First it was my favorite, the lilacs. They filled my yard with their lush fragrance and taunted the patrons of the park behind us not to steal over in the dark to snip a few branches from the other side of my fence.

Next was the honeysuckle with it's potent pink buds.

One of the more lovely surprises was the purple iris.

Right now I have these lovelies that I have yet to identify. They don't have as much fragrance but they are lovely to look at.

And this enormous rose bush is in full bloom. It hadn't been cut back properly in the fall and so is immensely overgrown. I had to tie it up with twine to make it look so shapely.

This space is magic for me. To hear the birds in the trees and know they don't worry. To know that sunshine and rain are needed for growth. To feel connected to our little spot of the earth.

It Is Well With My Soul or Keep Calm and Carry On

A bazillion years ago, I sang my first solo at First Church of God in Oak Lawn. It was "It Is Well With My Soul" and it became a calming mantra that I hum under my breath on scary days like today.

"When peace like a river
Decendeth my way.
When sorrows like sea billows blow.
Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say 'It is well, it is well with my soul!'" Translated to the current lexicon, it would be something like "Keep Calm and Carry On, Cause Everything's Cool."

Horatio Spafford wrote this after his wife and daughters were killed in a shipwreck while traveling to America from England.
I was taken by this story, and have often reminded myself of it when hosting a one woman pity party.

Everyone faces scary things. It's a sign of life. Add the complexities of the new normal blended family and they grow exponentially. That's precisely why I need to remind myself to "Keep Calm and Carry On."

All of this will pass. The good days. The bad days. The dark days. They all pass. And quickly, too.

It is well with my soul.

What to Do When There is a Possibility That Flaming Poop May Fall on Your Head

"I think I'm losing my mind this time.

This time I'm losing my mind, that's right."

Maybe not.

One of the things that I love about having this family is the look of surprise on people's faces when I answer the inevitable question, "How many kids do you have?" 

"FIVE?! What are their ages?"

"Nine, nine, twelve, fourteen and fourteen"

"!!!!"

This is the point where I explain that we are a blended family and that I do not, in fact, look amazing for having had five children, but thank you. I think. 

"So you chose this?"

"Yes, yes I did."

Or maybe, really, it's that this chose me. I remember the moment I met my three step-kids just as clearly as I remember the moment I met the Scientist and Triple Threat at the moment of their birth. Instant love. An immediate connaissance. Gong.

"How do you keep it all together?"

"Very carefully"

To be fair, my step-kids' mom is their primary caregiver, residential parent and advocate. The kids are with her during the week and with us every weekend and as much as possible on vacations and holidays. She is fiercely protective of her kids and takes care of their day to day needs, doctor appointments, IEP's at the school, the bulk of the responsibility. I am fortunate for this, as are they.

Still, though, there is a lot on my plate. Sometimes it gets heavy. Sometimes I get down about it.

I once was trying to work on "branding" myself. Not for a business, really, but just to have my own mental logo of myself. I kept coming back to the idea of a juggling octopus, keeping dozens of balls in the air at once. Some days those balls are on fire, too.  And some days those balls are made of poop. Flaming poop.

On those days, there are three things a girl can do. Smile. Make someone else smile. Turn up the Beastie Boys.

And if a ball of flaming poop threatens to fall on your head, duck.

The State of the Garden

We got a little too eager and ate the four small ripe strawberries before I thought to snap a photo. They were delicious and made me think I planted too few plants. 

The tomato plants I purchased from the organic nursery in town at the Homewood French Market. 

The view from the hammock. I love the privacy the tree canopy provides. 

A sever thunderstorm took the large majority of the lilac blossoms and turned them into a cushy looking carpet.  

Taking over for it's spent lilac neighbor, this bush that I believe to be honeysuckle is making gorgeously sweet blossoms. 

One of my favorite parts of growing flowers is having fresh cut flowers in the house. Thankfully, the precious owner of Shangri La House planted a lot of flowering plants so I can cut guiltlessly. And Galileo loves them, too. 

Rawr! I'm a dragon!

Some perennials I split in the large stone planter in our front yard. I also sowed some herb seeds in the empty spaces and their tender shoots are beginning to show promise. 

After tasting this juicy and spicy delight, I know I didn't plant nearly enough. Yum!

All in all, the state of this garden is happily making progress. 

My Confession

I have a confession to make. I hear gongs.

Bells and gongs are used in many cultures for many different purposes. People the world over use them to create a centered mind, clear negative energy and to celebrate special moments.

These are not the gongs I hear.

I started really noticing the gongs during my divorce. It was a sad and scary time and I felt like the world was off axis. Enter Mr. T.

We had known each other very slightly in high school and had become friends through social media much later in life. When we both found ourselves divorcing, we became closer, texting all the time, sharing the common experience. We hadn't seen each other in 17 years the day we agreed to meet for breakfast. I arrived to his house to pick him up but instead of getting into the car, he made me get out and hug him. I instantly recalled the moment we had hugged at a funeral 17 years before. It felt like home both times.

GONG!

Later on, we had our first outing with all of the kids together that culminated in preparing a meal for them. While working in the kitchen, we bumped into each other and locked eyes. It was as if we had bumped into each other while feeding our kids a million times.

GONG!

On a lark, we built a firepit in what was then Mr. T's backyard and camped out on the deck with the kids. I dozed off to the sounds of Bright Eyes singing about blankets on the beach, gazing at five pairs of feet stretched out to the warmth and glow of the fire.

GONG!

The gong is healing and rejuvenating and reassuring. It's like for a moment, I can hear the perfect resonance of the universe and rest comfortable in the fact that for that instant, I am part of it, experiencing and creating a small piece of perfection. The gong sustains.

One of the hardest parts of this new normal, this enormous family of blended origin, melded experience and newfound tradition, is the cosmic juggling act that ensues. There are countless needs, wishes, desires and interests of our children, not to mention ourselves. We both have demanding careers. We have extended families that need our support and attention. It's complex and I can't help but feel scared sometimes, worrying that the Rockstar isn't eating enough vegetables or that Triple Threat is trying to grow up too fast or that there might be a load of laundry sitting in the washer smelly for days.

Friday night, I heard something I have never heard before. It was the loudest gong I have ever heard, accompanied by an angel choir. It shook me to my core.

It had been a terrible week, stressful, angstful, exhausting, draining. By the time Friday arrived, I felt like hamburger. It was supposed to rain lightly but we decided to move forward with our plan to accommodate the kids' frequent requests to camp out in our back yard. We had not had an opportunity to do that since we moved to Shangri La House last August.

We built two campfires in firepits on the patio and brought out futon mattresses and sleeping bags. Triple Threat and I created a tent city from our oversized patio umbrella and a tarp. We roasted hot dogs, and made s'mores and then, on her own accord, Triple Threat brought out the guitar and led the other kids in the singing of campfire songs before we all settled into our sleeping bags to watch Wreckit Ralph on a laptop under the tent.

GOOONNNNNNGGG!!

It's been a rough 2013 for us. Lots of illness, injury and drama. Some weeks, it seems like it comes at you from all sides and you end your days feeling like a lump of well-pulled taffy. I've had times like these before and I know they are seasons that shall pass, too. These are the times we need the gong even more. We need to be re-centered and reminded of the beauty that surrounds us, re-focused on that which really matters, and reassured that we're on the right path.

Bouncing Back From Gardening Failure

Weeks ago, when I started my seeds, I wrote about my fears of failure. Sadly, those fears have been realized. Almost every single seedling is dead. What remains are a few sugar snap peas, some spinach that's looking kind of not so good, and a few very stunted looking kale seedlings. Let's also not forget the curious case of the chive seeds that migrated from the pot in which I planted them clear over to the other side of my yard where they took root amongst the grass, giving me crazy smells every time I mow the lawn.

Having gone into this gardening season mentally prepared for at least some failure, I'm not quite as devastated as I could be. There are things that I could have done better, however, for the most part, these deaths were cause by some terrific rains that swept through the North American midwest a few weeks ago. We were fortunate to not have sustained any flooding damage, many in the surrounding areas lost everything. We did enjoy making lemonade from the lemons by boating in the retention pond in the park behind our home.

I fear it might be too late to start some of the seedlings over again, particularly for tomatoes and peppers. I'm not giving up, though. I will need to revert, at least for some things, to buying plants. All is not lost on my quest for more wholesome, organic and non-GMO, though. I have found a source in my home town who will be selling organic, locally grown seedlings tomorrow. I've perused their offerings in the past and know I'll find some amazing heirloom varieties that will be delicious.

5 Ways to Stop Feeling Pessimistic

Over the past weekend, we hosted a party at our home.  Two of my stepkids and my husband all have birthdays within 5 weeks of each other so we chose a day in the middle and had the grandparents over for an afternoon of grilling wings, throwing bags, drinking sangria and just hanging out. It came on the heels of a week so bad, one of the days alone would have been enough to be considered a bad week, only there were seven of them in a row. It ended up being eight but we didn't know that until later.

The day was absolutely beautiful.  I felt like my house had never been so clean, and my hostessing skills never so spot on. The weather was perfectly gorgeous after a week of torrential rains. All of the parents were getting along so nicely, the kids were happy, I was relaxed.

And then suddenly, it was not okay.

I had left my father in law standing on my front porch in order to retrieve my phone.  I came back to find he had fallen off the porch, face first onto the sidewalk. He broke every bone in his face. He had to be sedated for a couple of days and woke up in pain, not remembering how he got there, and yet as soon as he could communicate, he was cracking jokes. Talk about joie de vivre, this guy has it!

I am guilty of a sense of pessimism of late, 2013 has been challenging with it's illnesses, injuries and injustice. It's hard to take a beating over and over and not be prone to stink in' thinkin'. I realize that it can't get much worse than breaking you entire face and if he's not lying there feeling sorry for himself, neither am I. It's hard to break out of the cycle, so it will take some action. Here are five ways to snap out of the poor-me's:

1. Gratitude - It always starts with gratitude. Make a practice of being grateful for what you have.

2. Exercise - You know the deal, exercise releases endorphins, yadada, yadada.

3. Hugs - Make a physical connection with someone everyday. It just feels good.

4. Fun - Nothing beats a belly laugh.

5. Bacon - I don't need to explain this.

Someone Tell My Knee I'm Not a Runner

Perhaps it is my knee's way of telling me there is no way in hell I should be considering roller derby at this advanced and decrepit age, but I am seriously ready to kick it's ass.  Yes, I want to kick my knee in the ass.  Don't judge me, people in pain make no sense.

Runner's knee sucks.

Getting Organized - The Chore Chart

Last year was a whirlwind of change and planning and more change and by the time the New Year rolled around, I was grateful to not have anything planned for a good long time. Our total life makeover was complete. We had changed just about everything there was to change about our lives in a few short years and I, for one, was ready to settle into this new world of ours and get comfy. Then Murphy had other plans and decided to throw gallbladder surgery at me.

It was an uncomplicated surgery and recovery and my sweet, sweet man took excellent care of me while I slept the better part of a week away. Upon my re-entry into the world, I saw certain things with a new clarity. One of those things was the need to involve the entire family in taking care of our home. This had long been a challenge for me. 

It isn’t that I didn’t know it needed to be done. I was well aware each and every time I got up hours earlier than my family (weekends included) to forge ahead at the never ending piles of laundry, bills, shopping, cleaning, cooking. And it isn’t that nobody ever offered to help. There were moments when my frustration was evident and kids and adults alike knew from looking at me that they had better take out the freaking garbage or I might lose my shit. But it was unorganized assistance that was poorly timed and unskilled, usually resulting in a break of my flow and another, bigger, pile of work.

Something had to give.

First of all, I had to stop letting some of the kids’ reticence about us even being a family get in the way of organizing us like one. Like it or not, we had become the new normal, a blended “Brady-bunched” family and it was time to start acting like one, and time for me to start running it like one. What do children in families have? They have chores. Enter the chore chart.

With a family as large as ours with movements as complex, it was important to make something flexible. Mr. T’s kids are with us every weekend while mine spend time with their dad every other weekend. Sometimes, Lil’ Mama will spent time at her friend’s house, sometimes a different kid will be absent. This needed to be a nimble system that allows us to make quick changes to accommodate in some other way than me doing the work.

It has become the centerpiece of our kitchen and has virtually eliminated my feeling stressed or anxious about keeping the house in order. Mealtimes used to be tense and exhausting. Nothing ever was kept up with and it always seemed like we were bordering on the place turning into a flop house. Now, everyone knows their job and can see what other people are tasked with. 

3 Steps to Gardening Success

Starting a project is sometimes a scary thing for me.  I am a perennial beginner of projects. I have a laundry list of things I've thought were amazing ideas, things I have spent considerable time, effort and money on, only to walk away from those projects. Sometimes it's because the scope has gone out of whack and the job seems too big. Sometimes it's simply because I've failed at the task. Other times, I decide that it no longer meets the needs of me and my family. I've become almost afraid to begin anything new, already asking myself "are you going to finish it this time or what?"

Planning this new garden has not been exempt from my project fear and self loathing. I had pep-talked myself, encouraging me to keep the scope of the garden simple, to start slowly and to build this up over several years. And then I sat down with the kids to see what kinds of vegetables they wanted to grow.  I took their suggestions for nearly an hour, discussing all manner of fruit and vegetable, which ones would be tasty, what might thrive in our yard. Where I had intended to have maybe 10 different vegetables, some strawberries and a cook's herb garden, I ended up with over 3 dozen fruits and vegetables plus herbs. And a greenhouse.

And then I got scared.

Scared of failing. Scared of falling off. Scared of losing interest. Scared of just about every darn thing.  Stupid, really, to get scared of gardening. Cultivating food has been going on for thousands of years.  Millions of people were successful at it even before Al Gore invented the interwebs and Pinterest for us to share the tribal knowledge. Although there is a manure-ton of arcane knowledge and best practices around gardening, growing food is really pretty basic, only three steps.

Step 1: Plant seed in soil.

Step 2: Add water and sunlight.

Step 3: Collect Profits.

Surely, I can do those three things, right?  I mean, NOT doing those three things GUARANTEES I will fail. But doing those three things gives me about a gazillion percent better chance of success than not doing any of those three things.  So I jumped in.

I wanted to order non-GMO, Organic seeds but was afraid of the expense. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that SeedsNow.com had 99 cent packs. I quickly assembled an order including some 29 varieties of seed and checked out, waiting for my future garden to arrive by mail.  In the meantime, I pulled out a copy of my survey and drew out a sketch of our yard and began planning what plants would go where.  I also happened to find a hand drawn map left by the previous owners of the house, that details the existing plants and trees.  I was very excited to confirm a large thicket of lilac bushes!

Once the seeds arrived, I waited for the weekend to arrive so I could make a trip to the Home Depot to purchase soil and a seed starting tray.  I also decided to purchase a small greenhouse to move my seedlings to for hardening and maybe to try my hand at some cooler weather fare like spinach and lettuce.

I prepared the seed starting tray by adding water to the fat, squat pellets, marveling as they grew like Shrinky Dinks on my kitchen table. I drew gridlines on a piece of notebook paper, making 72 cells for the 72 cells in the tray, carefully noting which seed was being placed in which cell.  I also made another 72 cell table in which I noted how many days after sowing it took the seeds to sprout.

And then I waited.  But not that long.  It took 24 hours for some of the first seeds to sprout, those of a blue kale that I intend to sauté with garlic and power up my juices with. Each day, I dutifully noted the spouters and mourned the dormants. The longest to sprout were the asparagus, not surprising.

I don't know if this garden will be a wildly successful victory garden that feeds my whole neighborhood or if I will merely be lucky to harvest a single tomato.  What I do know is that just the very act of beginning will ensure a much higher rate of success than not beginning would yield.

Making Changes

I have been absent for a few weeks. A lot has happened.  

I quit smoking over three weeks ago. I had been smoking (mostly) on and off for over 20 years and did it on a lark, because my husband sweetly and softly told me he would prefer I didn't smoke.

I began juicing. I'm not fasting, but I am enjoying some incredible effects.

I lost my gallbladder. I can eat spicy foods and drink coffee again, hallelujah!

I am getting organized for the first time in years. I have filled a brand new file box and created a family chore board.

I registered the eldest child for high school, all honors. I also had the most incredible time doing it with her and will remember it forever.

I am (still) ridiculously happy. If you haven't known me a long time, this might not carry the same weight, but those who do know that this statement is a mother-loving miracle.

I feel like I am on a mission or like somehow, everything is just falling into place some more, settling more deeply into the reality that was there, just under the surface. I am so excited for where we are now and where we are going.

The Next Level

I had this wonderful teacher in high school who had two last names. (A last name as a first name and a last name as a last name, for the uninitiated) I've tried to think of a great moniker for him but I can't. He's just Anderson.

Anderson taught me to love jazz and blues, taught me to sing into a microphone. He taught me to own a stage, and to look like I was having a good time doing it. He taught me to always be prepared ("You gotta get to the gig!") and responsible for myself. He called us all "Doctor."

It's been many years since I was in high school and yet Anderson remains a wonderful friend, a touch stone. I call him every few years, we go to lunch, I tell him my news, he tells me his, and then inevitably, he ends up saying to me "Doctor, you're now onto the next level." It has been his way to tell me I was making progress, that I had passed an invisible milestone, that I had gotten to the gig.

Only this time it was different. This time, I was giving a different kind of news, news of hope and growth and change and love and peace and just plain being happy in the face of struggle and challenge and busy-ness. Although all of my news was not good news, even my bad news was being shared through rosy tinted shades of optimism.

Anderson was impressed. He didn't tell me I was onto the next level, though.  This time he said something that blew my mind. This time he told me his work was done. He said it had been the first time in 20 years that he hadn't had to try to bring me to a positive place, to see my own value and to feel confident in making some noise. I was already there, already cheering myself on, already leaning into the downbeat, anticipating the changes rather than dreading them. These had been the true lessons he had wanted to teach me and here I had learned them.

He said his work was done. I said he was onto the next level.

And Then, BAM! Life Gives You a Smackdown

Last week, Thursday night, I was doing everything in my power to try to force myself into going for my 3rd day of C25k. I want to do roller derby this year and I need to get in shape. I got dressed, added power songs to my playlist and laced up my shoes. I just didn't feel right. It started to rain and I used it as the reason I wasn't going. I went to bed at 9:00.

I woke at 12:30, noting angrily that Mr. T had fallen asleep on the couch. I went and got him, annoyed that every light was on in the house. I crawled back in bed next to him and realized I wasn't angry, I was in terrible pain. Excruciating pain that Alleve and changing position would not relieve. Pain that had me wake him at 2:00 am in tears and ask to be taken to the ER.

Several hours later, I was given a diagnosis of gallbladder attack due to gall stones. And the lady doctor who delivers the news, a really sassy lady who reminded me of that one neighbor on 227, she tells me I can't eat anything "that tastes good." No spice. No fat. No coffee. That is, until I have surgery to have the blasted thing removed. A terrible way to live, especially the coffee!

This is a good thing. It explains a lot of how I have been feeling for the past year or so. It can be treated and I will be fine. I know this could be a lot worse.

I can't help but hate the feeling of being sidelined from things I want to do, though.

Gadget-zooks! Too many devices, too much of the time

We struggle with this as a family so much. I find myself referee and litigant in more device and console related arguments than I care to admit. It is maddening for me and Mr. T and it's no doubt detrimental for our kids.

I work with corporate customers to help them understand how to image, deploy and manage their devices and yet I struggle with setting and managing time limits and dealing with the pushback of multiple kids when trying to enforce reasonable balance. It's just plain hard. We have been plugging away, devising a plan that works for us. I've also been working on applying my technical knowledge to craft a homegrown solution for us which I will share when complete. Nothing wrong in fighting fire with fire.

One thing we have found vital is providing the equipment of fun. We received a most wonderful gift for Christmas of a field hockey (foosball) table. That table, with a nice fire roaring in the fireplace, some hot wassail in the decanter and fresh popcorn, are all a perfect recipe for an exciting, analog evening with the kids. Everyone loves to watch the heated games and partake in the smack talk. Mr. T has accused me of being a braggart but he's just jealous because I have yet to be beat!

Here's a great article about kids and setting limits on technology use.

http://www.citizen-times.com/viewart/20130102/LIVING/301020012/Kids-technology-How-much-too-much-

Planning a Garden For Shangri La House

My old container gardens with broccoli, 2009

I had to lose a lot of my previous life in order to find this place I am in now. One of the more painful things to me was losing the home at which I had created a raised box garden. I was so very proud of the fact that I had salvaged the wood from someone's trash pile, hauling it to the house in a tiny car stacked to the roof. It was lovely. I have missed it and really, I have missed gardening.

It wasn't really possible for me to garden until now. I know it is possible to garden in rental properties but really, I just didn't want to expend the time investment until I was somewhere to stay. This past summer, we found our forever home, bought it and we are now settled into our future.  It's a lovely home, with plenty of space for our large family and a large backyard that abuts to a beautiful park with a playground, ball field and .4 mile track.  It is truly our Shangri La.

Although it is January and the sky intermittently spits out snow and my breath makes clouds in the air when I go outside, I am already thinking about my first garden here at Shangri La House. Since I've been out of the game for a while, I reached out to my friends at Sow and So for some guidance and inspiration. I'm going to be documenting the process and hopefully my family will be eating some delicious, homegrown fruits and vegetables this season.

Before that ground thaws and I can get my hands dirty, there are a few things I can do to get ready.  The first was setting up my compost heap. My first heaps were made with chicken wire and fence posts and they worked quite well.  This time, though, I will be using the Presto Geobin.  It's a simple and customizable design that is inexpensive and reasonably attractive and it seemed to be the perfect way for me to begin composting here. 

Setup was relatively easy but I would recommend having a second person to assist as the bin is quite unwieldy when you first uncoil it. I opted for a 3 foot diameter this time, securing the sidewalls with the included plastic nuts, washers and bolts. Next was threading the four poles through the walls, which had me cursing at first, but by the fourth pole I was able to do it with ease.

Last was selecting the right spot in the yard and tapping the support poles into the ground. I chose a spot that is next to the fence and will be partially shrouded by the foliage of the bushes when spring hits. I put a bed of leaves, crumpled newspaper and shredded cardboard in the bottom and will begin collecting kitchen scraps today.  I can't wait to get a nice, steamy compost going!