Milestones measured by where we sleep

This bed, by Shawn Lovell Metalworks, is easily the coolest bed I've ever seen.

Anyway, so Ingrid now has a toddler bed in her own room (which doubles as the computer room for now), and last night she slept in it most of the night. Until last night she slept half the night in a crib in our room, and the other half in our bed. So this bed is her first nudge out of the nest. She was so proud and excited to have her very own bed. We all are. She and Bea helped me put new linens on it, Ingrid put a couple stuffed animals in it, the cats tested it for comfort, and she called her papa from outside to show him her new bed. This new sleeping arrangement is the latest big news in the Ellingsgard household.

The bed once belonged to Bea, and when she moved to it from the crib/parents' bed, it was a big deal, too. And things only got more exciting when Bea got a twin sized bed, new headboard, new linens, etc. That was the last we saw of her in our bed (on a regular basis.) She was 4, and she went to pre-school in the fall.

Between my sophomore and junior years in high school I spent the summer in Japan, sleeping on a 2 inch futon atop tatami floors. In all its flat and simple glory, it was the most comfortable bed I ever slept in. And I was 15, across the world from home. Every morning I folded my bed up and went adventuring.

Before Chris, Bea, and Ingrid, I lived with a boyfriend. Towards the end of our courtship, I bought a bed. I claimed that it was for when we would "temporarily" part ways in a few short months, after my graduation from college and his departure to teach in China. The parting ways was permanent, and I knew that when I bought the bed. We would have been smart if we just broke up the day I bought the bed.

I gave that bed to a friend of mine a couple of years later, after it became a second couch. I slept in Chris' king size futon.

We got a waterbed when we moved into our first apartment together where we had no roommates.

We bought a new bed after we moved to a new apartment. I was pregnant with Bea. There was a short in the waterbed heater. If you touched the person laying next to you you each got a mild zap. Strategic touches were fun, but something seemed a little wrong about it. Wrong in the potential for serious electrocution sense. So we put the king size futon mattress on top of it. When we moved, we discovered it had a serious mold problem.

We're still in the last bed we bought. I gave birth to Ingrid in that bed. Chris and I dream of our next bed, when all our once and future babies have migrated to their own beds, and all once and future children have consistent nighttime bladder control. Then we're getting our dream bed. Maybe one like the photo above. Maybe we'll get a tatami mat and futon like this one. We're thinking memory foam.

Food, Wherefore Art Thou?

This is a really an update of my previous post. I'm still sick. Tomorrow is my last day at my hell job and I got so sick I had to leave at 11:15. I went home, managed to get some food in me, which hasn't come up the same way or exploded out the other end, and my stomach feels somewhat settled. I feel lucky. I fear my luck could run out of my ass at any moment though.

I have a sensitive stomach on the best of days. Still, I love to eat, I like to try new things. Ever since I was pregnant with Bea I've been a happy omnivore. I don't eat huge amounts of meat. I'm wondering if I should return to the vegetarianism of my youth (I was a vegetarian and occasional vegan for about 14 years), or at least give the vegetarian diet a trial run for six months. I bought bacon for the first time in a couple of years. Maybe I'll finish the package first. And the locally raised lamb shanks in the freezer. I couldn't go a pregnancy without eating sushi, can I go six months? I think I have to re-evaluate the diet re-evaluation.

The fact is, I'm healthier eating meat occasionally. It's easier to put food on the table. Bea is the world's pickiest eater, and she has no interest in being a vegetarian. Neither does Chris. I don't think Ingrid cares right now. There's nothing I miss about being a vegetarian. My stomach was sensitive back then, too. We live in an area when you can buy meat from local farmers, support local agriculture, and put a face on your food. This is the kind of omnivorism I like.

What I need to do is start eating the fun rich foods slowly and stick with brown rice, garbanzo beans, and yogurt for a few more days. The bacon won't go bad.

JiffyFlux

How quickly can a stomach virus run across a street and back again? Apparently, pretty damn quick. Ingrid puked on Thursday, Meg was sick on Thursday (but didn't puke). Vincent puked on Friday. It was my turn on Saturday.

Friday night, I stayed up till the sun rose making product and labels. I got two hours sleep. I made decent money, sold a fair amount of things. But around 11 am, something felt wrong. I wasn't just tired, I felt off. I thought maybe I was overheated. It was about 90 degrees, and I had been sitting in the sun. I drank some water. That didn't help. Later, I put a cold compress on my neck. That helped the nausea. Yeah. Nausea. By 12:30 I knew something bad was coming. I asked Julie, one of my booth mates if she didn't mind taking the tent down herself. She didn't. I looked pretty bad. I went home. I laid down. 20 minutes later I called Joshua, and told him I didn't think I would make it to JiffyCon. Then I puked. The last thing I'd eaten, besides a couple of cookies was a cherry ice pop. I'll let you draw your own conclusions. For the rest of the day, I was so sick I could barely move. Today I felt much better, but still a little weak. I couldn't stand up for long periods of time.

I'm bummed I missed JiffyCon. I had a really cool playtest for Steal Away Jordan in mind. I heard JiffyCon was a blast of course. There's next time.

Update!
So Meg reports that she did not have the flux. I guess I wanted someone to share in my misery. That's okay, I had a relapse on Monday, so I had it for her. I'm still a little queasy, still a little weak, and not all affected systems have returned to normal function yet.

I'd be more graphic about the whole thing, for the sake of scientific inquiry, but I think the 2 or 3 people who actually read this might read during their lunch hour, and I don't want to discourage reading.

Let's just say...let's not say anything other than that I was wicked sick.

Loving What I Do...

is one step closer to doing what I love.

I gave two weeks notice at my job from hell, and have been training at my new job. I love this job already. I could see making a career out of being a Sleep Tech. And given the hours, I would be able to pursue my vocation much easier than if I continued to work as an office whore.

So why am I making the distinction between my career and my vocation? Well, as much as I want to be a midwife, I don't see making a living from it, and that's a good thing. If I expect to make a financial living from catching babies at home, I know I'll be disappointed. I want to do it because I love doing it. I think I have found something I could make into a career, while pursuing my vocation.

I can't remember the last time I had a job where I absolutely loved what I was doing. This is a new thing for me. I enjoy the balance between caring for clients, and working with crazy high-tech medical equipment. This job makes me have to think. I like having to think. I have to consider what health issues and medications will affect what I see on the computer screen, and how the patient will sleep or adjust to using a CPAP device. I like making people feel at ease. I like the hours. I like wearing scrubs and a lab coat. The work is fascinating. It feels good. Wicked good.

I'll gladly take loving what I do for now.

The Last Spanish Virgin

Tomorrow we're going to Isla de Culebra, Puerto Rico for my sister in law's wedding. I just looked at some photos of the beaches and it suddenly dawned on me that I'm going to a warm place! I'm going to the Caribbean!

I could really use a vacation. This is going to be a great one. I haven't left the Continental US since I was 15 and went to Japan.

I'm leaving with a nasty cold, unfortunately. I'm leaving a warm and sunny Massachusetts. I'm leaving a budding garden that I initially hated tending, but now I love it. I'm leaving after playtesting PSI Run and discovering that my character is a beach bumming surfer mermaid-like person. I was calling myself an aquatic hominid. How apropos!

And best of all, I'm leaving Greenfield just as the year forest tent caterpillar infestation begins. It's not as bad as it was last year, but it's still bad. I had two hitching caterpillars on my car this afternoon, and I shamelessly squished them. I almost never kill bugs, but I didn't want them on my trees. The pictures in the link do not reveal the horror factor of the yearly infestation in downtown Greenfield. They're everywhere. In the trees, swinging from their little tent threads, crawling on buildings, crawling and getting squished on the ground. They get on your car, your clothes, in your hair. They're just disgusting. I get the creepy crawlies just thinking about it.

I'm also leaving with my ginger beer almost ready to bottle, and a full tank of kombucha in the continuous brewer. It's a little strange that not only did I make arrangements for the Bakers to feed and water our cats and frogs, but also my culinary microbes.

When I come back, I start training to be a sleep tech. I will be giving notice at my job on Tuesday. Yay!

Have a lovely week!

Endless Rivers of Kombucha

Or, "Welcome to My Mad Tea Party".

Kombucha is several species of fungus living in symbiotic harmony with several species of bacteria. Together they live in symbiotic harmony with (on? in?) people. I think kombucha is addictive to people so that we'll take them into our homes, grow them, give them to people, and those people will grow them and give them to more people, and so on.

I've heard from several kombucha drinkers that they first time they tried it, they thought it tasted strange, or they outright hated it. I didn't like it at first, but something about it made me want to like it and I tried it again. Then I couldn't stop drinking it. Then I shared it with Chris. He didn't like it. Then he tried it again. Now he can't stop drinking it. Then I gave it to Bea and Ingrid and the same thing happened. I went from making one 3 liter batch once a week to four. We often have kombucha drinking frenzies when I pour the finished product into the pitchers and bottles. And I want to call everyone I know to share the magically fantastic and wonderfully refreshing fermented tea. This one has a little ginger in it! This one has rosewater! I brewed this one with lavender flowers!

My 2 1/2 gallon continuous fermenting jug from The Happy Herbalist came today. I started it up tonight with one of the 3 liter batches. It fermented quicker than I had expected and was a little too vinegary. I bottled another couple of liters and added a little rosewater. It's tasty. Tomorrow the other two batches should be ready. I'm going to add goji berries to one of them and ginger to the other, and call up my fellow kombuchaholics to sample the latest brew. (We'll be home this evening, kombuchaholics!)

I have another 2 1/2 gallon continuous fermenter that I haven't started up yet. I was saving it for when I got another yeasty beasty from Vincent, the ever delicious ginger beer bug. [Note: To clarify, I'm not saying Vincent is a "delicious ginger beer bug". He just grows them.] But I thought it would be fun to have two different flavors of kombucha, too. I'm not addicted to ginger beer yet. Maybe that's a little excessive. It's just so delicious and fun to make. It would be nice to have a black tea and a green tea or a caffeinated and a decaf. Two different flavors of never ending supplies of kombucha. And ginger beer. There are other cultured foods I have yet to try: Caspian Yogurt, Tibicos. Just thinking of all the microbes I could propagate makes me happy.

And of course, I have four new babies. I have two huge jars of babies. I can't bring myself to throw them away, and I don't really have to. I can sell them, mail them, give them away, feed them to the cats... I just found an awesome use for the superfermented undrinkable stuff: make it into a gentle skin toner. So I never have to throw any of it away. Maybe there's more truth to the notion that kombucha is really a prolifically spawning demon. Demon, fungus, what difference does it make? I'm under the spell. I have been assimilated. I'm a host and carrier.

And I'm becoming a High Priestess and Evangelist of the Great Kombucha Plan. I'm giving a "How to Make Kombucha" workshop at 6:30, Monday, June 4 at Acadia Herbals in the Maplewood Shops, Northampton, MA. It costs $20, and I'll give a step by step demonstration of how you brew it, have samples to drink and kombucha skin toner to try, I'll have lots of written information, and everyone gets to take home a kombucha baby. Email me if you would like more information.

We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad...

Some Kombucha Websites:
Kombucha.org. A perfect example how kombucha ensures its reproduction. They say it up front: "Someday, everyone will have cultures."

The Kombucha Journal. Chock full of helpful advice. Home of the kombucha exchange.

The Happy Herbalist. Carries everything you need to propagate kombucha, kefir, and other probiotics.


The Original Kombucha Mailing List. I'm a subscriber, but it's too active for me to read much of anything.

The Camel's Back Is Already Broken

I wish I could say, "This is the last straw." The last straw happened months ago. This is an Appendix Straw, a Straw Addendum, if you will.

My body is fighting something. I have a migraine with a sour stomach. I feel like crap. I went to Whole Foods Market before I had to pick Ingrid up, and got stuck being sick in the bathroom. It's not fun being sick in a public bathroom. I need to take it easy, which is what I intended to do today. I didn't think it was going to be very busy at work, so I called in so I could nurse my migraine and angry stomach without taking drugs.
The phone rang at 9 am. I didn't answer it. The phone was downstairs, I was upstairs. At 10 am I went downstairs to make myself some breakfast and tea. I checked the message. It was my boss. "Is there anyway you can come in? We're really swamped here..." She said. I waited 20 minutes and called her back. I told her I'd be in after I showered and got dressed. I took my sweet time.

When I got to work, the hot flaming work my boss lead me to believe had engulfed the office amounted to a small candle flame. She basically called me to come to work so that I could open the mail, print out three letters on letterhead, address the envelopes, add the same header on six documents and email the documents. My boss left at 1:15 to go to exercize class.

I don't think I can comment on this any more. It's ridiculousness is apparent. I should not have called her back. It goes without saying that I really hate my job.