Again!

I just ran across the fourth word I had to look up in this book. I'm only on page 137!

The word? Epistemology.

Per Wikipedia, it  is the branch of philosophy concerned with the nature and scope (limitations) of knowledge.^[1] It addresses the questions:

• What is knowledge?
• How is knowledge acquired?
• How do we know what we know?

Guess I shouldn't have ditched all those philosophy classes, huh?

Addendum: Damn! Page 142 - panatelas. A long slender cigar. Jeez....

The politics of lunch

Recently, the New York Times ran an article about a Colorado school district that has gone back to making lunches from scratch. They even hired a chef who trained at the CIA. And they are finding it is less expensive than feeding the kids the packaged, factory-produced crap they used to.

Other, better writers than I have written reams on this topic. The reasons for the abysmal school lunches in the past few decades are myriad and insidious. A lot of it can be laid at the door of our government; farm politics, subsidies, the actions of PACs, etc.

But we, the people, the parents, have to take our  share of the blame, too. We were totally asleep at the switch when school started feeding that swill to our kids. And it's not like parents didn't know; how may jokes have there been about "Mystery Meat"?

But somehow, it wasn't that important. No one seemed to mind. The kids didn't eat that slop anyway; most of it ended up in the trash. Right?

Circa 1977, in Downriver Detroit, at Seitz Junior High, I remember eating a plate of French fries for lunch every day. A large plate of freshly made, yummy fries. The lunch ladies would give me the stink eye, because French fries alone do not a healthy lunch make. But it was uncool to eat the school lunch. I seem to remember the lunches were cooked on site. We certainly could smell food in the hallways before hand. It wasn't until I moved to Phoenix that I discovered the joys of hot, dreadful, pre-made, frozen, then reheated food; the Pizza Snack! This was a thick paste made of TVP, heavily salted and sugared tomato sauce, and some faux cheese; all wrapped in a thin flour tortilla-like thing, soggy from being microwaved in it's plastic wrapping. I loved them! But on days I felt like a change, I'd get a bean burrito; extra-crispy  around the edges from being deep-fat fried. I don't recall ever drinking milk at lunch after elementary school. (It's a miracle my bone density is as good as it is.) My friends and I would line up at the Snack Bar, get our Pizza Snacks and Cokes and then find a spot to sit somewhere on campus. I never ate my fake food in the cafeteria, unless it was raining. Two reasons; only people without friends sat there, and also, on most days, there was a food fight. Also, the cafeteria was the site of study hall and detention. And who wants to go there? But I digress.

So, lunches at school have been horrible for decades. We are just now getting around to trying to fix it. I, for one, would be happy to pay more taxes for the schools if they would use those funds to feed the kids decently. Hell, if every family chipped in $100 a semester to a food fund, maybe we could at least get some proper meals for the students. And I don't even care if it's not my kids they are feeding; I pack lunches for my kids, and reportedly, they (mostly) eat them. There are some kids for whom school meals are their biggest meal, or their only meals. No kid should be hungry. Children have no control over their families' economic situation; should they be punished for being poor? We need to feed those children. A well-nourished child performs better in school. Better school performance leads to opportunities to better their lives. I am willing to pay for that.

 OK, I'm off my soapbox now. "Nuff said.

Pollan's doing it to me again

During GodMother Camp, I used my freedom to visit several bookstores. I browsed at a leisurely pace, sipping hot coffee and reveled in the absence of rampaging offspring. I stocked up on some used kids books and also found a few books I've been wanting to read, including "Second Nature; a gardener's education" by Michael Pollan.

I'm only on page 81, and the man has sent me scurrying to the dictionary twice already. And you gotta love a chapter entitled "Compost and Its Moral Imperatives".

Wait. Who's being grounded?

I'm not really sure what it is about kids. They seem all cute and sweet and harmless, until you put a couple of 'em together in a room for several hours, several days running. Then, they morph into pint-sized demons of disorder and tumult who whine for snacks every 2 hours. 

Claire and Aeron have been grounded for the past week. They've been making forts out of pillows, blankets and even their mattresses, throwing their books all over and literally ripping things off the walls.They amuse themselves for hours, playing make-believe with their stuffies, dressing up in different clothes and  jumping and thumping around. Their room looks like a giant has picked up the house and given it a really good shake.

Now, there is a upside to having your small children confined to one room. You can put away all the stuff in all the other rooms without interference or complaint. Not that dealing with clutter is my idea of a picnic, but making order out of chaos gives me some job satisfaction. For many years, I had a quote from the lifestyle maven Alexandra Stoddard on my desk. "Order is a gift we give ourselves, " she said. (This was when I did not have children) She also believed in sorting through jelly beans and only putting the flavors you like in the candy dish. Go figure. 

Friday night, I went down with a cold, so Miles manned the home front alone all weekend. I honestly think he's better at managing the Wee Lassies than I am. He takes them to the park and runs them around with a soccer ball. He has the girls run small errands about the house. He even gets them (sometimes) to pick up their room in exchange for a popsicle. This afternoon he took for a hike on the Harmony Trail. They always* want him to read the bedtime story; they only ask me as a last resort. He's really good, but as always, he's outnumbered.

By Sunday night, he was getting flustered and I'm sure looking forward to work tomorrow, so he can rest up. "Hurry up and get well" he said, shaking a finger at me. "I'm tired of being a single parent!"




*unless someone cooler is around, like Cal, Super Gra-Maw or Uncle Brett

A rotten week

OK, so, it's been a lousy week.

There has been unnecessary drama with the teenager. I've had drunk neighbors shout and spit obscenities in my face. My twin darlings were caught doing awful things I'm too ashamed to describe. I had to tell the neighbor kid they were playing with that he was not longer welcome at my house or could play with my daughters.

And now  I have a cold.

Last night, as the virus hit, I decided a hot shower would help make me feel better. My mistake was not looking down at the tub as I stepped in. Ever step on a plastic dinosaur? They are poky and hard plastic and I cursed and slipped and flailed about trying to regain my balance.

After my shower, I just gave up and went to bed.

The Birthday Lookie-Loo

I do this every year. I ponder the reality of getting older, and try to figure out if I'm heading in the right direction. Oh, and what direction did I want to go, anyway?

Today I turn 46. Not a huge number, compared to some (hi, Papa!) But older than I've ever been.

So, where am I at? I have a wonderful husband. Truly, Miles is a gem of love and support, an excellent father and an all-around funny guy. Most people don't know how funny he is, but I'm here to tell ya; dude is a crack-up! Also, he's a stellar BBQer, and easily the most patient man I have ever known. He makes me a fabulous husband.

I have great kids. Kayla is about to launch into the world. And the world better be prepared, 'cause she'll be running this planet in 20 years or so. Cameron turns 13 tomorrow. He's a sweet kid, and his little sisters adore him. He's also developing quite a subtle and snarky sense of humor. Plus, he's got great hair. I anticipate this is the year the girls start to circle like hungry sharks. Also, this is probably the year he gets taller than me.

Then, there are my daughters, Claire and Aeron. The girls turn 6 on Friday. What can I say to convey the whirlwind produced by the Wee Lassies? They have such boundless energy; imagine Kayla squared! They are endlessly inquisitive; it has been said small children ask 200 questions a day. Which makes approximately 400 inquiries launched at me every, single day. We do have a rule, though. No questions until Mama has had her coffee. But they also laugh. They laugh with such joy! They are so loving. They have known nothing but love, so they give only love. They fling their arms around everyone, with very sincere affection. When Daddy comes home, he is greeted like a rock star, each and every time. Claire and Aeron are at a stage where they are figuring out who is "in our family".  Luckily, we have a large family for them to love. Susan, Ron and Brandi DeCarli, Chris and Caitlin Neumann, Super Gra-Maw and Papa, Uncle Trevor, Great Papa, Cousin Karen, Uncle Brett, Uncle Clay-doh; and those are just the folks we see often! Few people can resist their charm.


I have a comfortable home in a beautiful area of the Central Coast. I live where people like to vacation.  I could wish to have a larger decorating budget, and I really would like to get baseboards in the downstairs bath, but that's a very minor thing. Our fruit trees are producing, we have folks next door who will feed the cat or from whom we can borrow an egg. The kids play all over the neighborhood. Our family  is happy here.

There are areas that need improvement in my 46 year-old life.

I've suffered enough with the pinched nerve. It will have been 6 years on Saturday. Time to get that shit fixed. Once I have the neurosurgery to repair that little problem, I will no longer have the excuse to not exercise. And I need to exercise! Because of ....

...perimenopause! My already slow metabolism has slowed to a crawl. Also known as the "Kurth Curse". We tend towards plumpness. Well, actually, we tend to be fat. I'd been doing fairly well, fighting the Curse, but lately have been losing the battle. I don't wanna go there!

I need to get out more. I'm a social creature, yet I love to stay at home. I need to find a social outlet.

I need to use my brain more. Use it or lose it, so the saying goes.

I need to stop being "Sweatpants Woman". I should make the effort to foof up from time to time. Despite hearing my man say, "you look fine without makeup".  (I'm pretty sure that in the Married Man's Manual, that's a required statement)

As I add up the pluses and minuses, I realize how very good my life is. Guess 46 will be a great year.

Fourth of July

 Happy Independence Day, all!