Global Warming Extinction Countdown or How to stay sane in this crazy world . . .maybe

These days when I find it very hard to get out of bed each morning, I have to think of something, some task, that I need to do. The quality parameters I demand of some task that would get me out of bed are that it must be progressive, must be creative in some small way, must be helpful to my home, family, co-workers, or my own sense of well-being; to be worthy enough to get me out of bed in the morning a task must be engaging enough to get my mind off the political shit-show I seem compelled to watch as it moves past my eyes. Humans have a hard time looking away from a car wreck.

Sadness comes from witnessing weaker minds follow the Trump heresy without question; sadness witnessing those livestock faces as Trump’s rallying crowds; sadness knowing that Trumps’ orbit is completely populated with a combination of willing sycophants (his fellow evil clowns) and the duped; sadness knowing that these people are all around me. Is this what it was like in mid-20th century Germany? Maybe. I need to believe there were sane, reasonable people who felt fear, sadness, and shame living among those who found fulfillment in encouraging the emergence of a tyrant.

Today I am shocked, frightened, appalled (pick an emotion) as Trump presides over the murder of American allies in Syria like a spoiled mean-little-kid shoving a toddler off a curb. Another bite of shame all around as Americans are forced to swallow up the daily heart-crushing horror of Trump’s infantile bumbling at every level of governance, in every arena of what has morphed into our American existence.

The politics, as heart-wrenching as it is, would be minor for me (a temporary aberration assuming Trump is unable to call off elections), if all humans would just acknowledge reality and work to help ourselves and all other planetary inhabitants to survive what is surely coming as the ozone weakens. Reports pop up in the news linking human activity with a global avalanche of environmental responses. Money-makers that benefit from the human activity causing our destruction put it out to the world that we should all ride buses and recycle if we’re so worried about things while they continue to exchange our future for more money in their pockets.

First, for me, was the confusion I experienced welcoming insects into my yard that I have never seen in the 26 years of living here and coming to realize why. And, then, was the bit of horror as a mysterious seastar wasting disease (a response to a new condition of the environment along the central Oregon Coast and beyond?) began a few years ago – big news at the time, then nothing, people stopped asking about it. All along the timeline of the last several years, I’ve watched reports of algal blooms that seem more frequent along the Pacific coastline endangering foragers of shellfish along with reports of cyanobacteria blooms that threaten humans and pets in some freshwater streams and lakes in Oregon; dead zones, low oxygen areas, in the nearshore waters off the coast of Oregon and Washington extending and worsening forcing animals that cannot escape to suffocate. On and on and on.

I observe reports but, I’m not an expert; I only see that the world is changing to a more dangerous place. I see that real and honest scientists are being stifled by Trump’s administration (a willing dupe of greedy billionaires) – the collared and controlled wolves of capitalism (disguised in scientist’s clothing) have been put in charge of the planetary research hen-house. Many of the agencies we depend on for accurate information have been corrupted.

It is easy to blame the bumbling clown Trump for all this, yeah? But he is only a useful idiot for greedy billionaires after all. Sometimes this all seems so futile. Hope as a human construct is crumbling for me. I’m not sure how long I can bear the pain. I’m at the point where I must rebuild hope every morning by thinking of some task to do. How long can that last?

So, well, today I’m up and doing. Writing this all down for my audience of one will help me move through this one’s day . . .maybe. When the hour seems very dark and sad, I console myself with memories of my childhood. Do kids even have childhoods these days? Today, I remember the feeling of cheering my team in the wooden stands at the Little League baseball field just outside town, with my family, on a warm and sunny day after school in Lakeview watching my brother pitch from the mound while trying to keep his shirt tucked-in per regulations. I love that memory.

Where Are the Children of Light?

“. . . history will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people. Our generation will have to repent not only for the acts and words of the children of darkness but also for the fears and apathy of the children of light.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

I drove north on Hwy 101 not surprised to see a small gathering in the parking lot of the Newport Armory. Hand drawn signs covered a jeep pleading “protect your guns.” I shook my head and scowled disapproval at the woman waving at me from that scene as I drove by. Why didn’t I stop and let them know, on no uncertain terms, that there is at least one person in their midst who opposes their “clamor”?

“The clamor of the bad people” – who are the bad people? I suppose, like me, these folks are speaking to represent those they perceive as a compliant majority of like-minded protectors of a civil right (though not the same right I would select above the others to concentrate my energies upon). Would they really defend all of the policy choices of this gangster-in-chief? While I don’t really know if most people are good, I can hope that we are. Misguided, frightened, not evolved – these are words I’ve used to describe, for my own comfort, these extreme right-wing responders. I live among them and communicate civilly as I do with any stranger. What is civility in the face of barbaric behavior like imprisoning children? Is that good manners or just fear?

I am not apathetic regarding what is going on in this country. I am not apathetic about the current federal administration policies that separate families and put children in cages. The racist, sexist, thuggish bullying tendencies of this American President that seem to have overthrown the minds of a segment of the American population and belittled American values based in humanitarian morality is breaking my heart. What is this slimy ideology that is creeping into our lives? Should we be expecting the mind-police at our doors soon?

The familiar chant of the 1960s echoes in my mind: “Love it or leave it.” Leaving it has crossed my mind lately, but, the thought is quickly followed by the self-accusation of “Coward!” I have loved Oregon, being born here, surrounded by the stature and incomparable beauty of every part of our state. There have always been our right-wing thinkers, but, as evidenced by Oregon’s status as a politically “blue” state, most of us are not of that lot. We have all lived together like family – sometimes in disagreement – usually with respect. What changed?

Our so-called leadership in Washington DC is calling to the dark nature of a small segment of our citizens. The strength of the response seems to be growing if reports are to be believed, but, I think we are all being manipulated into thinking this “trend” is inevitable. I cannot believe that we have no option but to fall into this pit of hell and despair! What set of reasonable answers do we have from which to chose that will solve this distressing equation?

I am just a lonely voice screaming from my broken heart and it seems to be all I can do from here right now. When opportunity for real and effective action presents itself I hope others will join me. This situation we are being given is a problem to solve and quickly – lives and the futures of very young children who cannot act for themselves are being held hostage along with the true soul of our nation.

Please speak up as a Child of Light.

23 days into keto

An odd number of days to celebrate, but a 10 pound weight loss is extraordinary for me. I have no before pictures . . . sorry to those who thrive on such ghoulish voyeurism. To me, the number on my not-always-reliable-for-accuracy (but useful for recording incremental changes) is an outward indicator for (yeah, man, this is so cool!!!!)the first stages of success at something new.

I feel that ketogenic ways of eating are a natural for me and it seems so weird that I missed it on my radar for so long. I’ve been researching the science for the past month and cannot find any good reason to stop the process of very low carb eating.

I have recently completed a study sponsored through Oregon Health Sciences University testing a biologic medication for my early stage rheumatoid arthritis. I’m now in remission thanks to this drug, but each weekly dose is about $1,000 delivered by injection. I’m very grateful for the opportunity to have had access to such efficacious medicine, however, I don’t make enough income in a year to pay for 6 months of treatment. Clearly, my future health and mobility depend on finding another path.

Keto may be that path and I’m very excited. I’ve already seen improvements in my blood pressure measurements and, three weeks after my last dose of Abatacept, I have no recurring pain in the joints that were heavily affected by the RA . . . so far, fingers crossed!

That’s all for now.

Studio Today

Thursday, September 28, 2017

Dear Visitor,
Hello to anyone looking in. It has been a very long time and a few significant life events in the family have altered my focus. So, to sum up, I have advanced into torch tasks (soldering, annealing) with sterling silver and copper. It is the very newness that I love which is frightening and exciting all rolled into one amazing jittery feeling.

I recycled this sterling silver from a ring that I thought would have a better life as a pair of sterling silver earrings featuring lovely cobalt blue glass orbs.
Cheers

 

Interested? They will be found on Etsy.

 

 

 

A New Crusade – Rage Against the Bully

Bullies seem to be in style now – we all have our Trump.  And I have my own bully, my own personal bully – the kind one finds in a workplace.  Research teaches me that this is not my first one.  I simply have not recognized them.

In this new age of bullies – ones that torture children at school and through the internet, ones that get elected to high office, ones that lurk around the workplace – it felt reasonable to do a little online research to see if any of the pieces fit my situation, if any of the boxes could be checked.

All of the boxes could be checked for me as the classic target of a classic bully.  Oddly, the discovery is liberating.  I mean, even if I don’t escape the “attentions” of this person, I will still be free of the effect of those attentions.  With time, opportunity, and careful cunning, I may be able to convince my tormentor to move on to some easier target.

That may sound cold-hearted – wishing the bully onto some other poor soul – but, nothing will ever stop the bully from being one. Sadly, there is no guarantee against picking up another one – like I said, I recognize that I have had at least 2 in the past 3 years.   All one can do is shake them loose.  Fortunately or unfortunately, both of those encounters resulted in a job loss for me.  By the way, being the target of a bully in the workplace usually does result in the loss of your job according to research.

It’s not important to display details of this very stressful , insidious, and personal torture.  Bullies come in all shapes and sizes with all manner of psychological influences and motivations.  That one latches on to me (or you) is only a matter of matching up profiles.  It is almost neither person’s fault.  It is import to realize, also, that bullying is not illegal – it cannot be viewed as harassment unless it is clearly based in illegal discrimination.

The important thing for the target of the bully is to recognize what is happening and call it by its name.  That simple gesture alone will relieve a lot of unhealthy stress and put one in the productive mindset that will enable escape from any further damage, professionally and emotionally, by the bully.

I’m still learning and I will share an important website :

http://www.workplacebullying.org

If you suspect that you have become the target of workplace bullying, check out this very helpful website.

Gabriel and His Girls

Gabriel and a few of his Girls

It’s May  and Gabriel is leading the girls in some good-natured destruction of my bale of straw.  They are enjoying a few of the last days of free roaming.  My garden is young and the raccoons will begin lurking in the woods beyond the yard.  Time to retire to the protective coop . . .real soon, Gabe!

Frank Herbert Quote

“The highest function of ecology is understanding consequences.”
Frank Herbert

Studio Today

Saturday, April 16, 2016

Dear Visitor,
April, my favorite month! Yesterday I completed the cutting and fitting on my current glass project.

 

Un-named piece – See the progress on OregonEdgeStudio.com

 

Had a little time to work on my new craft (I love it because it involves using a hammer – yay!) silver-smithing. I followed directions from experts online and distilled what I remembered into my own first attempt. When I feel comfortable with the craft and actually come up with a nice piece (other than the 7 earrings I’m wearing now), I’ll post a picture. I love April! Creative energy is in the air here on the coast . . .one just needs to breathe it in!
Cheers

Loving the Sourdough

Here it is, so beautiful!  The crust is crispy, the crumb is well structured but not gummy or stiff.  This morning it was the same, no overnight morphing to tough leather like the last loaf.  I think my recipe is solid, but will do it a few more times to make sure.

Toast this morning was only one slice (instead of my usual two) and the crust baked under the oven broiler to a light crispy, interior of bread was heated through but not hard.  Lovely!

I can’t believe how satisfying one slice of bread can be.  I’m sure it’s the sourdough difference.  I feel nourished and full with only half the amount.

There have been times when I’ve been lazy.  I would go through phases of  just picking up a loaf of bread at the store – just trying to get the best I could afford without going crazy.  I always read labels and could not accept high fructose corn syrup.  Other than that, I just tried for being able to pronounce ingredients.  The most remarkable thing about using commercial bread is that, for me, I could go through a loaf in two days – by myself!  Not only that, I would still feel hungry.  What is going on with commercial bread?

At least making my own bread gave me a pause.  It has been more filling than any commercial bread, but I still eat too much of it – my body searching for nutrition.  It’s like being thirsty and trying to slake that thirst with fizzy drinks.  Doesn’t work, does it.  You just end up more thirsty.

Now, with sourdough, I’m finding a serene satisfaction.  A half slice with a tablespoon of mascarpone and that can be lunch.  Hunger is gone for an appropriate amount of time.

Sourdough is touted to break down flour and make the nutrients available to human bodies in a way that commercial yeast home bread-making cannot do or does very incompletely.  Certainly the mysterious process of commercially baked bread with all its chemical dough conditioners and such and the for $ profit emphasis of those selling such bread is not even worth the time it would take to read the label.   Sourdough – worth a try, I said to myself.  The long run will tell, but it looks promising.  So far I’m loving the sourdough for everything it brings to the table.

I’m in love with the basic sourdough bread, but I’m an experimenter.  So, onward.

Free Range Yeasties

This is my third try.  A bit dense, but great flavor and crust texture.   A little chunk of heaven with butter on it.  After cooling this loaf down for an hour, I sliced off the end piece and buttered it.  The crust was delicate and crispy, the bread was tender and springy and it made me happy to chew it.

But, still work to do.  The next morning the crust was a bit less crispy and the loaf was an exertion to slice.  Looking at a lighter loaf,  I adjusted the recipe in two ways – one by accident and one by plan.

As i weighed the starter, 150g became 178g.  I thought, divine intervention!  Then I thought, uh oh, this will make the dough too wet.  So,  I adjusted the water by half the difference.  Explaining – starter is roughly half water and half flour (in my inexperienced estimation), so reducing the 250g of water by 14g might work to keep the moisture level right.  This all remains to be seen.

The intentional planned adjustment was as follows: instead of 250g of white flour and 250g of whole wheat flour I added 15g of gluten, 135g of whole wheat, and 350g of white flour.  I always think I need to put at least a little whole wheat in a loaf of bread; otherwise, it’s just cake.  I’m hoping this will lighten the loaf a bit.  It is proofing now;  I’ll give it an hour then drop it into my cast iron dutch oven, give it a small slice on top and put it in my 450degree oven with the lid on.

So, now you’re wondering why is this post called “Free Range Yeasties” anyway?  Well,  this morning as I reached on top of the fridge to get my starter, I found a huge overflow of the wonderful stuff having a big ol’ time across the front corner of the appliance.  I’m not sure why, but I felt exhilarated as I gathered the starter up onto my dough scraper and rinsed it down the sink.  I think it just felt like success knowing how happily bubbling and frothy my starter had become.  I need a bigger glass jar or decide to ask it to live in the fridge instead of on top of the fridge.  It sounds weird, even to me, to think that I’m going to make the starter less happy if it has to be subdued.  I think I’ll go in favor of give it more room to roam – my free range yeasties.