everything in baltimore is free.
while that's not exactly true, i want you to check out some of these links to get an idea of how absolutely zany this free city is.
The Free School (i was took a pretty nifty class here)
The Free Farm
The Free Store
The Book Thing (read: free)
so...yeah.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Perhaps the World Ends Here
by Joy Harjo
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what,
we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the
table so it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe
at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what
it means to be human. We make men at it,
we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts
of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms
around our children. They laugh with us at our poor
falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back
together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella
in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place
to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate
the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared
our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow.
We pray of suffering and remorse.
We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table,
while we are laughing and crying,
eating of the last sweet bite.
from: Reinventing the Enemy's Language.
Edited by Joy Harjo and Gloria Bird.
New York: Norton, 1997.
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what,
we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the
table so it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe
at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what
it means to be human. We make men at it,
we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts
of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms
around our children. They laugh with us at our poor
falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back
together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella
in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place
to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate
the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared
our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow.
We pray of suffering and remorse.
We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table,
while we are laughing and crying,
eating of the last sweet bite.
from: Reinventing the Enemy's Language.
Edited by Joy Harjo and Gloria Bird.
New York: Norton, 1997.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
They say this has been a dry, hot summer for Baltimore. Temperatures have reached 90 most days here and I believe them. My room is cool, but when I crack my window to slip out onto my fire escape I quickly find myself shedding layers and holding still as possible, pressed down by the damp heat.
This morning I woke up to the breathing of rain. I had to listen, half sitting up, to know it was there. The house felt as though it’d been wrapped around by the falling water, holding the sleepers in.
This morning I moved quietly through brushing my teeth and rolling the cuff of my jeans, through cutting up a peach and rustling through the first pages of a new book. Rain keeps noises closer to their source. I didn’t hear my housemate in the kitchen until she unwrapped a granola bar. Three of us had plans to go to the farmers market today. There is something about leaving a house in the morning to go into the rain. There’s a deep pause at the door, the wrestling with the umbrella, and a breaking out that seals the warm dryness in behind. We dressed for the wet and wandered through the slantways rain, finding people reusable bags tucked under their arms to follow. I counted umbrellas and breathed in the cleanness.
This morning I woke up to the breathing of rain. I had to listen, half sitting up, to know it was there. The house felt as though it’d been wrapped around by the falling water, holding the sleepers in.
This morning I moved quietly through brushing my teeth and rolling the cuff of my jeans, through cutting up a peach and rustling through the first pages of a new book. Rain keeps noises closer to their source. I didn’t hear my housemate in the kitchen until she unwrapped a granola bar. Three of us had plans to go to the farmers market today. There is something about leaving a house in the morning to go into the rain. There’s a deep pause at the door, the wrestling with the umbrella, and a breaking out that seals the warm dryness in behind. We dressed for the wet and wandered through the slantways rain, finding people reusable bags tucked under their arms to follow. I counted umbrellas and breathed in the cleanness.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
a project
my second day at Our Daily Bread and i already have a project! in between memorizing over 100 volunteer's names, keeping track of who is new, getting people chopping and setting, giving orientation, entering volunteers into the database, checking phone messages, calling back potential volunteers, making phone calls looking for more volunteers, solving problems on the floor, making the computer lab volunteer rounds, answering questions, tracking donations, planning the next day, planning the next week, and smoozing with the employees i am going to be working on resolving our involvement with the Hamilton Crop Circle .
every sunday ODB receives farmer's market leftovers. this week it looked like: a bin of tomatoes, a bin of squash, two bins of greens, a bin of tomatoes and squash, a bin of pears, two bins of apples, a bin of green peppers, squash and eggplant, and two bins of corn. the program also donated eight 50lb bags of green beans and the same of potatoes. this week they just sat there. yesterday, amidst bins of (literally) rotting fruit my supervisor told me of his vision. this summer volunteers manned the delicious fruit and veggies, sorting and prepping it for the line and the chef. see, in order for ODB to serve 700 meals a day, the chef and line volunteers are prepping as fast as they can from 8am till serving time at 10:30. they don't have time for sorting shriveled green peppers and scooping rot out of yellow squash. the produce is beautiful on sunday, but by the time wednesday rolls around it's looking pretty bad. there is some serious foot dragging about the process of getting enough volunteers on this job but the benefits are obvious. the farmers market give ODB the produce and less of it gets thrown away. we are recycling. produce is expensive. while ODB tries to serve nutritious meals every day (they have a mean vegetarian platter) they can't afford to buy produce the quality of the farm-fresh bins received from hamilton. also, our 500 guests can't buy a lot of fresh produce either. some of them insist that that's just fine for them, they don't like veggies anyway, but others love it. after a rigorous clipping and cleaning of 50lbs of green beans today, i watched many guests chowing down on heaping scoops of steamed green beans and kidney beans. i believe that if only 50 people enjoy their plate of fresh and healthy food all of the sorting, cleaning and chopping is worth it. like the chef, cedric said "it don't matter what they do with it once we give it to 'em, we just gotta get it out there".
get it out there! i am glad there's something else to be excited about at this job. all aspects of it are great, but this one i think is going to be particularly rewarding.
on another note, i got my library book today! time for a little cozy reading.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
our picnic
baltimore is sunny and hot. on first thursdays there are lovely free concerts in the park. the park fills up with art students and little families. our little family went too. we packed a picnic dinner (salad night!) and trekked up the hill to the park. the music was ok, the food delicious, the company joyful and the people watching divine (my favorite was my new little friend named charlie).
Thursday, September 2, 2010
found this on a dear cousin's page
these are some interesting articles. naturally, i don't know exactly what i think about stars making a splash in the fair trade world. are they for publicity articles like these? of course some of this philanthropy has brought a lot of change in the past. we'll see how it goes.
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