Purging vs. Posterity

I’m not certain what has spawned my latest obsession — purging versus posterity. Perhaps it is a confluence of events and factors that has caused me to reflect on times past — times of abundance and times of dearth. I have entered my 40s, I have an amazing life partner, I have a beautiful daughter, I am about to complete — once and for all — my formal education. I have a home, a career, all my bills are paid. Overall I have been exceedingly prosperous and fortunate.

So why am I obsessing about things that I’ve owned and carelessly given away? They’re just things! Symbols of consumerism. Maybe even symbols of a time when I paid little attention to the events, experiences, and people who were important, and too much attention to material possessions. But I can’t stop thinking about them and kicking myself in the arse for giving them away in a fit of purging. Some of you may read this post and think that I’ve lost it. Maybe I have. Maybe I’m crossing a threshold in my life and seeking ways to procrastinate and return to simpler times. Then again, maybe as I look into my daughter’s eyes I see all the years I lived before her and how I should have saved some of those items to share with her. For posterity.

I think by the end of this post I will have figured it out. But for now, let me share my regret. There are few things I regret in life: such as never learning to play an instrument and never learning to speak a foreign language. There’s still time! you say. But what about those little possessions that you just let slip away over time. I guess I think about how hard I worked for those possessions. How they were physical artifacts of major events in my life. Maybe that’s what I want to share.

Here they are in no particular order:

Guess Ankle Cowboy Boots

These were VERY hip in the early 90s. I remember I was working at the Naturalizer shoe store in the Villa Linda mall in Santa Fe. I can’t remember where I discovered these shoes, but I can remember how badly I wanted them. They were $125, and I saved for a month to buy them. I remember how thrilled I was when I walked out of Dillards with them. I was 21 years old. Long. Lean. Wearing a slick pair of Levis and a tight and cool chartreusse colored turtle neck and my brand new brown leather Guess boots.

The ones you see here are a blue suede version, and when I found this picture on Etsy.com they called them “vintage.” That just added that extra tinge of pain to my regret of getting rid of them. The funny thing is, I honestly cannot remember when and why I let them go. I know I wore the bejeezus out of them, but they were by no means thrashed. The fact that I can’t remember why I got rid of them or who I gave them to makes me realize that it was probably a spontaneous decision. Still, I loved those boots and often wish I still had them.

 

Mom’s Vintage Frye Lace-Up Boots

Okay. So these weren’t mine to begin with, but there’s still that memory of how much I liked them and that regret for not being foresighted enough to tell my mom to save them for me. I was probably 9 or 10 when my mom owned these. I think she said they were a gift from my dad. She would wear them with jeans, peasant skirts, and loose and flowing blowses. It was the late 70s early 80s after all. Women’s lib. I am woman, hear me roar. She looked so confident. So free. So cool. I can see here singing Tanya Tucker’s “Delta Dawn” and dancing her awkward, rhythmless dance in the living room of the tiny duplex we lived in. These were the times when my sister and I would spend summers at the Alto public pool, walking two miles to get there, sharing grape Hubba Bubba and Big Hunks. I see women wearing them now and I am filled with longing. They were/are expensive as all heck. Plus, I have been cursed with large calves, so most boots don’t fit right. These lace-ups would be perfect for me.

Alas…I don’t know what happened to them and don’t really feel like asking my mom. The time she owned these was divorce time. Times of  hearing Barbara and Neil singing, “You don’t bring me flowers” over and over again. My sister and me being latch-key kids. Times of dearth. She probably sold them to pay rent. Who knows. I don’t want to dig up those old bones.

Burgundy Leather Backpack

This one is a painful one. It was 1996. I had been living in New York City for a year. When I first moved there, I worked for a temp agency, which placed me at some pretty cool jobs: PaineWebber banking firm, the New York Public Library. I learned a lot about the city and about myself in those six months. Then life just sort of jump started. I got a job as a photo assistant at The Associated Press, and a few months later got accepted to New York University’s journalism program. Life was good. I was 26 years old. I was making good money. I was a graduate student at a prestigious university. It was late summer and I was heading to an orientation/campus tour which was to meet near Washington Square. As I walked down 8th Street toward the University, I glanced into a leather store and eyed the most beautiful burgundy leather backpack. It was 85 bucks. I’d always wanted a leather backpack and this was Italian quality and just the right color. (The one you see hear doesn’t match, but is the same style.)

 In truth, this pack was not the most practical accoutrement for the college student or NYC commuter. It had no shape, so everything just slouched to the bottom of the bag. Also, the inside would “shed” little bits of suede, which would get all over my computer and my books. The straps were too long, so the bag bounced against my butt when I walked. Still, I loved it. It was a symbol of the next era of my life. I kept it for years without ever using it. When I came back to New Mexico, I went through a huge purging of belongings. I think I gave this and my Herve Chapelier bag to Goodwill. Can you imagine? I’m still kicking myself in the arse.

 The Herve Chapelier Bag

This bag was really nothing special. They were very popular between 2001 and 2003, especially for NYC commuters. It was the perfect bag for carrying your iPod, magazines, newspapers, umbrella, wallet, gym clothes — all those things you need to take with you when you leave your apartment — and anything you happen to pick up on your way home — a new blouse, a bagette and cheese from D’Agostino, a bottle of wine. Your urban first-aid kit.

They were a bit pricey — probably $65 or so — but for durability and practicality it was well worth the price tag. Mine was brown with a red trim and black handle. I just can’t help but regret giving it away! What a score for whoever tripped upon it at the Goodwill. I wonder how much it sold for?

 The Coach Leather Slouch

This has been, by far, my most lavish splurge. Sarah Marentette, with whom I worked at The AP, came in one day with a chocolate brown suede version of this bag and I knew I had to have one. I worked at 30 Rockefeller Plaza, within skipping distance of the local Coach boutique, so I trotted on over during my break to check out this bag. I saw a smooth light leather version so I picked it up and glanced at the price tag. It was a staggering $385. I left outta there and did some serious soul (and pocketbook) searching. At the time I was one of those “I work hard and I deserve it” kinda gals, so I quickly rationalized spending nearly $400 on a purse (something I would NEVER do today). So next pay period I bought it.

Again, this was not the most functional bag — all things sunk to the bottom of the bucket and the strap was not long enough. When I wore it across my chest, the bag was up in my armpit. When I carried it as a shoulder bag it was too long, hanging down below my hip. I used it for a long time. Got lots of compliments. But then it just went into my bag drawer. I think I was short on cash and eBay had just become the new thing so I sold it for $200. I think the woman who bought it lived in Racine, Wisconsin. I felt good about letting it go to her — girls in Racine might need some style. Still, I miss it.

The Trashbin Backpack

One of my favorite things to do is inherit other people’s throw aways. I love Goodwill, Thrift Town, yard sales, flea markets. In New York City, you didn’t have to go far to find chic trash. My basement, for example, was a good place to start. At least once a week I’d venture down to dump my kitchen garbage and find the end-result of someone else’s purging fit. I got a good pair of jeans, a nice sweatshirt, some soft and well-worn t-shirts, and a sweet black leather backpack like the one shown here.

This was a good little sometimes bag. It was compact but roomy enough to carry the NYC essentials (see Chepalier above). And it was quality leather with heavy duty zippers. This was a bag that wouldn’t quit. Again, I can’t remember when or where I disposed of it. Maybe someone was just as excited to trip upon it as I was.

The Kate Spade “Ill-Gotten Booty” Bag

Every bag has a story, and this is the story of the ill-gotten booty bag. I have owned Kate Spade knock-offs, but never splurged for this particular extravagance. The business manager where I worked was famous for buying every new Gucci, Coach, Dolce & Gabbana, Kate Spade, you-name-it-high-priced-couture bag that hit the market. I think she’d had this bag for a while, because it was nicely worn-in red leather. I admired it and told her how much I liked it, especially since it had silver buckles and zippers — not the gaudy gold-plated junk you often see on high-priced items like this. When I came back from teaching my class it was sitting on my chair, empty, with the matching wallet inside. I walked into her office with an incredulous look on my face. She said, “I wanted you to have something nice.” Now, this woman was famous for spoiling people…people she considered her friends. I was shocked, and grateful. It was a sweet gift and I was, deep down inside, thrilled to have inherited it.

Turns out, however, that this business manager had been embezzling money from the school at which we worked — somewhere to the tune of 250 G’s. After she was unceremoniously fired, and as she was being investigated, I started to think that this great bag was probably bought with money that was supposed to go to public school children’s books and computers and pencils and stuff. So I just couldn’t hang on to it and feel good about carrying it around. It had bad karma. To carry it was to carry fuku. I had to get rid of it.

I remember carrying it with me when I went to visit my friend Kari at the store she works at in Santa Fe. She admired it and I said, “Yeah, I think I’m going to give it away.” She grabbed the purse as it dangled on my arm and screamed, “You’re GIVING AWAY a Kate Spade bag!!! Are you NUTS!?!?” I ended up giving it away to someone I don’t talk to anymore. I should have given it to Kari, but that would have been passing off fuku to someone I love. I couldn’t do that. Still, I miss the idea of it. Maybe I should have brought in a curandera and had it blessed. Then I could have kept it.

Purging vs. Posterity

So what was it about these things? Honestly, now that I’ve talked about them I feel much better. The longing and the loss of them seems so trivial and insignificant. And the lens through which I view them is much clearer. Like I said earlier, every bag has a story. Perhaps it is the stories of the eras of my life that I am not wanting to forget. To talk about these times is one thing, but to have that artifact as a spring board for the story is something else. To have that item is to realize its value, its symbolic representation of times past, times important, times of abundance and times of dearth.

I would love to have these things to show and tell my daughter, “See this? This is what was going on in my life when I owned this. I was working my first job and learning how to fend for myself. I was in graduate school. I was living and surviving in New York City. I was working for the world’s largest news agency. I was digging through the trash for treasures. I was realizing that there are people out there who have no scrupples.” Maybe these things represent lessons learned, wisdom gained, and friends lost.

Maybe these things are there to remind us to hold on to what we value. To respect the hard work we did to attain them, whether they be actual physical things or people, friends, lovers, children, ideas, principles, failures, theories, and successes. Some of them come at a high cost. Some of them are nice to look at but impractical. Some of them were cast away by others, but were useful and important to me. Some of them represent the worst in people, some of them represent the best. Some represent difficult childhood memories, hang ups, and resentment. Some of them represent positive things to come. Whatever they mean, what is most important is to recognize when to hold on and when to let go.

First try with DPNs

So…this is my first attempt at knitting socks on double-pointed needles. I’m teaching myself so it’s a bit chaotic. It was going well for a while, with some screw-ups that were, to my liking, relatively unnoticeable. But then all of a sudden I realized I had increased 8 sts! What do do. Start over again? I guess it couldn’t hurt.

Knitted Toddler Hat

I found this yarn at Wally World and just loved the color scheme. It’s your basic acrylic Red Heart Super Saver yarn ($3.29/skein) called “Earth & Sky.”

The hat pattern is a hybrid of a couple of different patterns.

• 1 skein of Red Heart Super Saver yarn in Earth & Sky (5 oz/141 g; 244 yards)
• Size 6 straight needles (or size to obtain gauge)
• Gauge: 20 sts + 28 rows = 4 inches in stockinette stitch
• CO 84
• Work in K2 P2 ribbing for 8 rows (about 1-1/4 inches)
• Work in stockinette stitch for 40 rows (about 6-1/4 inches)
• BO
• With WS, join with mattress stitch
• With RS, gather top of hat into three equal sections to form a “T” and sew top with binding exposed.
• I embellished with simple tassels, but you could put pompoms or bells if you’d like.

My one-year-old, Charlotte, wears it well with her blue eyes and sandy brown hair.

 

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To associate or not to associate?

That is the question.

I am an urban beekeeper in a city where there is are an estimated 200 urban beekeepers just like me. Over the past year or so there has been some considerable effort by very motivated and talented individuals to bring all of us together. So far, it has been through social networking and online forums, which is great.

But as urban beekeeping becomes more prevalent (and, dare I say, hip — see New York Magazine’s recent spread on urban beekeepers in The Big Apple) in this country, so it happens that those who have a life-long fear of bees (or whom have recently become fearful because of media hype about Africanized bees) become concerned about being surrounded by beekeepers. All it takes is one story of someone being “attacked” by bees and the whole city is up in arms. It makes me think that being more formally associated with a larger group might bring a semblance of order to this endeavor.

My first and major interest in being a part of an beekeepers association or society is education and outreach. While the practice of beekeeping has been around for centuries, it would serve the community well to have access to knowledgeable beekeepers willing to share their expertise and experience with those who may not understand what beekeeping entails or educate those who are fearful of bees. Any time I have ever shared my bees with others I have always heard the same types of reactions: “They’re so mellow!” or “This isn’t as scary as I thought it would be.” I am convinced that all people need is to see other people interacting harmoniously with bees and many of those irrational fears will be waylaid.

Secondly, my husband Ryan and I are adamant about practicing sustainable, non-chemotherapeutic beekeeping methods. This means that we do not use pesticides, miticides, or antibiotics on our bees and we encourage our fellow beekeepers to do the same. We also speak with our neighbors to inform them of the harmful outcomes of pesticides on bees and how research has shown long-term detrimental affects of utilizing such products on plants and bee colonies. Our belief is that you do not need to use chemotherapeutic methods in beekeeping. There are other methods that are non-toxic to bees and plants and that don’t show up in our honey supply. So the goal of an association might be to promote what I call “best practices” in beekeeping. This does not mean that there is only one way to keep bees, but there are responsible ways and irresponsible ways to keep bees. Why not share the good methods and enhance the world for all of us?

Also, to associate might be a good way to protect our interests. There have been recent stories about people damaging and destroying hives with chemicals and education and outreach is the one way to get people to be less fearful and more responsible, while also protecting the significant investment of time and money beekeepers put into their practices. If we are to protect ourselves, we need to have a collective voice in terms of policy.

And finally, to associate helps the bees. I love the honey bee and believe that they are one of the essential elements that will facilitate our survival on this planet. If we humans can unify in our desire to protect the bees, we will be doing so to protect our own continued existence.

Is beekeeping safe?

A recent story about a woman’s dogs being killed by bee stings has prompted this question. First, my condolences to the woman for her loss. I would be beside myself emotionally if I came home to find my dogs in severe shock from bee stings. But rather than simply state that bees are dangerous to all and that beekeepers and city officials are irresponsible for not “regulating” bees, it’s important to look at the circumstances of the event and reflect upon one important thing:

Bees are stinging insects. They are also wild creatures, and like any wild creature (or civilized one, for that matter) they will protect themselves and their colony to the death if need be. Typically, swarming bees are incredibly docile because (a) they are completely engorged with honey in preparation for their long journey, and (b) they are focused on one thing — finding a new home. I have been told that when you see a cluster of bees that have swarmed you can put your bare hand right in the middle of the cluster and they will not sting you. Indeed, whenever you see people wearing “bee beards” they are usually a swarm. However, if they are disturbed in any way or made to feel under attack (for example if they are sprayed with a pesticide or barked or chomped at by curious dogs) they will no doubt retaliate. They are constructed the way they are for this very simple reason.

That said, I have four hives in my backyard each housing about 60,000 to 100,000 bees. My 9-month-old daughter, my husband, my dog, and I all work, play, and relax in our backyard without fear. Occasionally, a curious bee will come around seeking water or something sweet. Also, when recently robbed of their honey they have been known to send out what my husband and I call “sentinels” to track those evil humans who just stole their hard-earned booty. These sentinels — usually one or two bees at most –  will buzz around our heads antagonistically as if to say, “I know you!”, but never have we gotten stung. We just take it as a sign to give the girls a wide berth until they calm down. This never takes more than one or two days post-harvest.

I have never heard a complaint from any of my neighbors. My elderly neighbor to the north loves my bees for her garden. She said she notices more bees clustered around her bird bath, but even when she gets close to refill the basin they have never stung or antagonized her. My backyard neighbor loves to smoke meats and we give him quarts of honey for his smoked hams. He has told us that he now does not use pesticides on his vegetable garden to protect our bees. Another neighbor operates a preschool and has a pool in her back yard. I have never heard from her that a child has gotten stung or that bees are overrunning her pool for water.

So, is beekeeping safe? Yes. Good beekeepers — urban or otherwise — do everything in their power to ensure the safety of their bees and the safety of their neighbors. Are bees safe? Yes, but to deny their instinct to protect themselves is to deny nature. Bees are eusocial insects and they will protect themselves and their colony if necessary. But let us remember that they do not do this on whim. Unlike wasps, yellow jackets, and hornets that can sting multiple times, bees die when they sting because their stinger stays in the victim and the stinger is connected to the bees entrails. So when they respond to a threat, they know they have to make it count.

If you are curious about bees or afraid of bees I encourage you to find a local beekeeper and talk to them. As a child, I was horrified of bees. I would run, swat, and scream if one came near me. Now I allow myself to be covered in them. I deeply admire their singularity of purpose, their commitment to one another, and of course the sweet nectar that they allow me to steal from them. They are, to me, the most beautiful creature on earth. I would love to share that love with whomever is interested.

Again, the death of the dogs is tragic. But we cannot, as a community, throw the baby out with the bath water. Our world is filled with enough fear and terror already — the last thing we need is to add bees to that long list, especially since they are so vital to our own survival.

Go out and hug a bee today.

Banana Muffins

I just made the best banana muffins with my honey. Follow recipe below for yumminess.

• 1 c. organic whole wheat flour
• 1 c. organic white flour
• 1/4 c. vegetable oil
• 1/3 c. soy milk
• 1 egg (I actually use flax instead of eggs. 1 egg = 1 tbsp fax+3 tbsp. water)
• 1/4 c. honey
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1 c. mashed ripe bananas

Whisk oil, egg, and milk together. Whisk in honey. Add flour, salt, baking powder. Mixture will be thick and lumpy. Put in greased muffin pan (I use the one with large cups). Bake at 400 degrees for 20 mins. Makes six large muffins. Yum!

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Honey Harvest 2010

We robbed our first hive this past weekend and pulled 40 pounds of honey out, filling about 14 quart jars. This was a trial run. Next weekend we’ll rob three others. This is my most favorite time of the year!

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Too long!

It’s been too long since I’ve posted anything on this. TWO YEARS! Totally unacceptable. Lots has changed. Married, five hives, ABD doctoral student, and a baby daughter. Will post new stuff soon!

XXOO

Monica

Honey Harvest!

Well, it took us about six hours to harvest our first two deep frames of honey. We didn’t even get to all the frames, we left about five in the hive for the girls. After all was said and done, we had about 70-80 pounds of honey. WOW!!! The honey we robbed is a beautiful golden color and tastes like orange blossom. We think they may have made it from the spanish broom and russian olive blooms….a Cuban gold! Hah! Check out the photos and video when you get a chance!

One Queen, Two Queen, Red Queen, Blue Queen

Well, this morning I woke up with one honey bee colony and as I sit here and type this I suddenly have two.

Yesterday I went out to do a hive check and was greeted by an amazing site. Two weeks ago, the frames in top hive body were empty save for a small mushroom-shaped conglomeration of wax. There were many bees working diligently, however, so I knew I’d have to check them again. What I found yesterday I totally did not expect.

All of the frames in the top hive body were almost totally drawn out and at least three of them were filled with eggs and larvae. The mushroom-shaped wax had take over the whole frame. (See photo below.) I guess when I put the frames in there I did not space them correctly so the bees built outward. When I pulled the frame out, the wax ripped and some ripe larvae fell out. {Sniff}

Then I noticed that there were two supersedure cells on one frame. The supersedure cells are usually high up on the frame and are built when the bees are planning on rearing a new queen. The two cells were empty, which is normal. However, when I pulled out another frame to my surprise there was a peanut shaped cell that was closed…a new queen! I totally panicked and had Ryan drive me immediately to Ken Hays’ place in Bosque Farms to get some more supers and figure out what to do with this new queen cell. If she hatched, she might just naturally take over as the old queen dies. However, this is swarm season. If she hatches and the hive is too cramped and croweded, they will swarm.

Ken told me exactly what to do so today was a nerve-wracking two hours of working on my hives. Here’s what I did…

1. I put three hive bodies out and took out all the frames.
2. I took apart my whole hive, separating the brood frames from the honey frames and placing them in their own new hive bodies.
3. Then I took the frame with the queen cell and put it in its own hive body along with one frame of honey and brood.
4. Then I stacked the old hive — honey frames on the bottom and brood frames second — then added two honey supers with only eight empty frames.
5. The new “nuc” hive I set aside and put emtpy frames in there.
6. I put grease patties in the old hive so help with the mite population.

A friend of ours, Chris Koza, was here visiting and wanted to watch the whole endeavor. Thank goodness, because his questions and observations made me more centered as I worked. Otherwise I would have been a nervous wreck. However, when pulled out the last frames a huge chunk of wax and honey fell off sending the bees into a frenzy. That’s when Chris tapped out. The cloud of aggitated bees was too much for him to handle.

I kept diligently working however, and managed to put everything together. Then I immediately called Jerry Anderson and told him what I did. He reassured me that I had accomplished all the appropriate steps and now I just have to wait.

So what will happen next? In about a week to ten days I will peek into the old hive to see how the colony is filling the top honey supers. Jerry said they may be full of honey in a week or two!!! With the “nuc” hive I have to wait about three weeks to see any progress. Right now the bees in there are young nurse bees, who are only concerned with taking care of the brood. The queen will likely hatch in five to seven days and then go on her one mating flight, after which she will start to lay eggs. Jerry said I should be able to peek in after three weeks and see newly laid eggs — that is if the new young queen is doing her job.

The whole affair was absolutely amazing and yet I am so nervous to see what happens next. I was so nervous that I did not do the clean job that I usually do and I’m sitting here thinking of all the things I’d like to do over. But for now I just have to watch them and let nature take it’s course.\