sometimes i feel so alive it just about breaks my heart

Recipe by Martha Rose Shulman at the New York Times.

These zucchini fritters are based on a recipe I learned from the cookbook author Diane Kochilas. A classic mezze served in Greek taverna, they’re like a Greek version of latkes.

2 pounds large zucchini, trimmed and grated on the wide holes of a grater or food processor
Salt
2 eggs
1/2 cup chopped mixed fresh herbs, such as fennel, dill, mint, parsley (I like to use mostly dill)
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 cup fresh or dry breadcrumbs, more as necessary
Freshly ground pepper
1 cup crumbled feta
All-purpose flour as needed and for dredging
Olive oil for frying

1. Salt the zucchini generously and leave to drain in a colander for one hour, tossing and squeezing the zucchini from time to time. Take up handfuls of zucchini, and squeeze out all of the moisture. Alternately, wrap in a clean dish towel, and squeeze out the water by twisting at both ends.

2. In a large bowl, beat the eggs and add the shredded zucchini, herbs, cumin, bread crumbs, salt and pepper to taste and feta. Mix together well. Take up a small handful of the mixture; if it presses neatly into a patty, it is the right consistency. If it seems wet, add more breadcrumbs or a few tablespoons of all-purpose flour. When the mixture has the right consistency, cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for one hour or longer.

3. Heat 1 inch of olive oil in a large frying pan until rippling, or at about 275 degrees. Meanwhile, take up heaped tablespoons of the zucchini mixture, and form balls or patties. Lightly dredge in flour.

4. When the oil is very hot, add the patties in batches to the pan. Fry until golden brown, turning once with a spider or slotted spoon. Remove from the oil, and drain briefly on a rack. Serve with plain Greek style yogurt if desired.

Yield: Serves six to eight.

Advance preparation: The mixture can be assembled up to a day before you make and fry the fritters.

I saw “Avatar” on Wednesday. The bioluminescent forest was pretty. The story line was not.

I felt like the supposed “statement” the movie half-heartedly attempted to make was just a hat-tip to justify the same old story, the same old movie, same same.

I had no idea what the movie was supposed to be about going into it–I don’t watch trailers unless I’m already at a movie, and I don’t see movies very often. Afterward, I was told it has an environmentalist message, but weak environmentalist messages that are cozily cloaked in racism are lost on me.

Why do we have YET ANOTHER story about/from the perspective of white people, specifically a white man? WHY does said white dude get to be the hero, with the option either to betray and conquer the indigenous people with his military training, or be well-intentioned enough to take their side, do what they do better than they can (after only three months), and become their leader? WHY do the Na’vi, in their grief at the destruction of their home, their ancestral sites, and so on, only unite in hope and prayer to save the life of a white person (Sigourney Weaver)? Why is the death of a white person who wants to study them more important than the death of their own leader? Why do the white people get saved by the Na’vi diety, who “only protects the balance of life,” when so many of the Na’vi die? Why do they only get the idea to come together as a community when the white dude suggests it, when americans & the american military in particular are horribly individualistic (recent army motto: ‘an army of one’)? Why does the diety respond to the white dude’s prayer? And why do we have yet another movie about fighting violence with more violence? We’ve been doing it for millennia and clearly it hasn’t changed anything.

I just genuinely want to see movies about how we want to live, not about all the wrong ways we live already.  I want to see movies about healing and real love and good communication and transformation. I want to see movies where women and people of color kick butt (without needing a white male leader to show them how to do it). I am sick of seeing the world through hurting, fucked up, white, male eyes.

I didn’t get a good photo of Colt cuddling up to me before he moved to his new home. Fortunately, my boss thinks like I do: time to make a house call! In three weeks, my boy will need his vaccination booster shot. Typically, people bring their new goats back to the farm and we administer it here. In this case, however, I can offer to go to them. How very exciting. Now, all I need is a lab coat!

His new family is super lucky to have Colt as their stud. He has a fantastic temperament (thanks to me, I like to think) and his mama is our best milker. For how frantically he searched me for milk whenever I cuddled him as a wee babe, he certainly is mellow as a pre-teen.

Photo of me, at work, sorting out the goats. In this instance, one of my girls was too slow finding the food and got zoomed by another goat. I’m about to move everyone down one so she can have a spot.

Not much new going on.  This afternoon, I lay on the hammock out in the orchard and read a book.  We’re getting two border collies next week, so I’m trying to learn about training herd dogs.  I’m also engrossed in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series.  Massage tomorrow, as usual.  Life is full.

The other day, I went into the pasture to find two mamas licking three wet, newborn kids. Both moms were vigorously licking all three kids, so my first thought was, “Oh shit, how am I going to figure out which kids go with which mom?”

Fortunately, I realized that one of the moms was Macke*, who likes to “help” when the does give birth. She had some discharge and I couldn’t feel any legs when I pressed her belly, but there was no blood and she was still pretty fat. I decided she was just the acting midwife and went to put Jumpy–the real mom–in a stall so I could give her a nutrient-rich “witch drink” and write the births in the book. I took two kids in hand, Jumpy chasing eagerly to lick her kids, while Macke licked the remaining kid until I could come back for him. Of course, all that licking creates a bond between goat and littler goat: I heard Macke calling those kids for two days afterward.

When I brought in the herd this morning, Jumpy was sitting with her boys out a ways in the pasture. She stood up when I called for her and the three kids stared at me like a bouquet of violets, their tiny stripey faces all nestled together. Then they hop hopped toward me as their mama came to be milked.

* the first goat I fell in love with here–she loves licking my fac

I’m participating in a three-day dance workshop this weekend.  It’s been amazing so far.  Today is the last day.

For months, I’ve been feeling that spark of desire to go to ecstatic dance every week and, as usual, I waited until the spark had enough momentum to carry me there before I actually went.  It was perfect.  The dance has the high energy and good community that I crave without being emotionally draining.

With the new job on the farm, I find it challenging to be fully present in each moment.  I am that way: I have to learn each new environment and discover whether it’s safe enough for me to be.  What I’m noticing–or, rather, remembering–through movement is that my primary barriers to being fully present aren’t mental, they’re physical.  I use my mind to distract me from my physical reality and to willpower through the pain, but it’s easy to drop the thinking and have a quiet mind.  It’s not so easy to drop all the ways I hold stress in my body or to stop contracting around and being distracted by physical pain.

I want to try not to notice my pain so intensely–not to focus on it as something solid, but to breathe it open in the moments that I can.