One of the things I most enjoy about my work is the chance to speak with people about things that really matter to them. Whenever you speak to someone about their landscape, the place where they live, you get into what's most important to them -- solitude, play, gathering, health, productivity.
Today, while looking for a nearby place to dispose of soil and sod for an installation we're doing in Chelmsford, I happened on Jones Farm, and had one of those conversations. (I should first say that I got there via another of those conversations, where I asked the cashier at Agway where one could dump soil. He pointed me to Jones Farm, with an aside about the other places one could have gone once, before X nursery chain and Y box store took over.)
The whole conversation with Phil Jones, the proprietor of Jones Farm, was facilitated by the 22-month old's paradise: an indoor sandbox stocked with "dig-dig, [cement] mix[er], dump t[r]uck, and bobcat." This is set up in the Cafe area, along with a coloring area, blackboard, and, for the moms, a fair-trade espresso machine, which I'm told they may have to close down for political reasons. Two laid-back, toddler-wary dogs wandered in and out while we talked.
Jones Farm has been doing organic farmstand production since before it was cool, and has recently added landscaping service. Phil says he got NOFA-accredited because he was "tired of getting lied to at trade shows" by sales people who were unconcerned about the healthfulness or sustainability of their products. Now, he runs both formal classes and Sunday drop-in sessions to educate locals about organic landcare, and gladly shares tips and ideas with his customers.
A college-age woman who came in seeking "cheap grass that will grow through anything" left with compost, endophytic grass seed tailored to her site, and instructions for use of pre-emergent weed control in the spring. She also got an earful of warnings about 4-step chemical treatments and the hazards of pesticides.
Me, I saved a bundle on disposal fees, and got a great mid-day working mom break.
Showing posts with label work/life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work/life. Show all posts
9.25.2007
9.19.2007
Back to the Blog...and Moving
We finally have a firm "go live" date for the new version of ayardandahalf.com, so I have to put my money where my mouth is and return to blogging. Wait -- don't click anything until November 1. The current site has some great content, but the design has been dubbed "so 1995".
I hope that the new site will be a resource for both new and exisiting customers, for everything from, "It's been 29 days since we had any rain. Water anything you want to keep!" to the latest news on carbon recapture credits for organic agriculture. (For those keeping score at home, as of Sept. 11, 2007, the greater Boston area is in "moderate drought", as classified by the U.S. Drought Monitor.)
Other ideas:
I hope that the new site will be a resource for both new and exisiting customers, for everything from, "It's been 29 days since we had any rain. Water anything you want to keep!" to the latest news on carbon recapture credits for organic agriculture. (For those keeping score at home, as of Sept. 11, 2007, the greater Boston area is in "moderate drought", as classified by the U.S. Drought Monitor.)
Other ideas:
- Pics of our works in progress;
- "Project Journals" with contributions from customers and esteemed colleagues;
- Tips for organic lawn maintenance, pruning, hardscape care, and composting;
- Design/project ideas for outdoor living;
- Exchange of ideas about related topics like food security, sustainable agriculture, immigration law.
11.13.2006
My baby ate my homework
Ok, he didn't really. Yet. But as I sat cutting out dozens of little chiclet-sized squares of double-sided mounting tape with which to adhere all the tiny pieces of my first model for class, even I was tempted to sample. Mmm...chewy...
Speedy turns 1 on Friday, and, right on target, he's cruising, babbling, and shoving fistfulls of everything into his mouth (including, sadly, this morning's Cheerios unearthed from somewhere on the diaper table). 1 is this magical age when babies apparently become invincible. Thursday: rear-facing carseat; no cow's milk, honey, citrus, or nuts; no duplo blocks or walk-behind bubble-mower. Friday: front facing, enough caesin to grow a baby cow, and his first lesson on excavation with the Bobcat.
I was reading the 12-15 mos section of Brazelton's Touchstones today, and could kinda identify with his description of the push-pull of toddlerhood. As an adult, I'm still bouncing from wanting to "do it myself" -- forging out to take more classes, biting of bigger designs than I can chew -- to getting scared and frustrated by all of the newness. Luckily, perhaps, I don't have the option to just let someone else take care of it all and remain dependent.
Had a great talk with my visiting mom about this (dynamic of adults wanting to be taken care of) at our final meeting. She was commenting on how even with grown children, it can be a challenge not to "do for" them. Likewise, it's a challenge not to ask someone else to do for us, or to find another way to pretend we're not responsible for our own destinies.
We joke about how much babies at the breast look like drug addicts -- their little eyes rolling back in their heads with pleasure, and then, "Oh, oh, I need another hit!" But one of the saddest moments I've had in the last year was seeing a businessman on his lunchbreak upending a sizable bottle of alcohol into his Dunkin' cup. Speedy was only maybe a month old, and I had the simultaneous thougts: (1) Please don't let my baby grow up to be an addict, and (2) How sad! This man just wants to be nurtured, to feel safe from the chaos of the world, to be accepted, loved, and cared for unconditionally, to slip into that same oblivion that Speedy has when he's nursing. Seems all of life is a series of weanings. Probably not what the Buddha had in mind when describing samsara...
Speedy turns 1 on Friday, and, right on target, he's cruising, babbling, and shoving fistfulls of everything into his mouth (including, sadly, this morning's Cheerios unearthed from somewhere on the diaper table). 1 is this magical age when babies apparently become invincible. Thursday: rear-facing carseat; no cow's milk, honey, citrus, or nuts; no duplo blocks or walk-behind bubble-mower. Friday: front facing, enough caesin to grow a baby cow, and his first lesson on excavation with the Bobcat.
I was reading the 12-15 mos section of Brazelton's Touchstones today, and could kinda identify with his description of the push-pull of toddlerhood. As an adult, I'm still bouncing from wanting to "do it myself" -- forging out to take more classes, biting of bigger designs than I can chew -- to getting scared and frustrated by all of the newness. Luckily, perhaps, I don't have the option to just let someone else take care of it all and remain dependent.
Had a great talk with my visiting mom about this (dynamic of adults wanting to be taken care of) at our final meeting. She was commenting on how even with grown children, it can be a challenge not to "do for" them. Likewise, it's a challenge not to ask someone else to do for us, or to find another way to pretend we're not responsible for our own destinies.
We joke about how much babies at the breast look like drug addicts -- their little eyes rolling back in their heads with pleasure, and then, "Oh, oh, I need another hit!" But one of the saddest moments I've had in the last year was seeing a businessman on his lunchbreak upending a sizable bottle of alcohol into his Dunkin' cup. Speedy was only maybe a month old, and I had the simultaneous thougts: (1) Please don't let my baby grow up to be an addict, and (2) How sad! This man just wants to be nurtured, to feel safe from the chaos of the world, to be accepted, loved, and cared for unconditionally, to slip into that same oblivion that Speedy has when he's nursing. Seems all of life is a series of weanings. Probably not what the Buddha had in mind when describing samsara...
9.19.2006
Top 10 List
My visiting mom sometimes gently teases me about being a stressed-out super-mom. She's right, at least about the stressed out & mom parts. Anyhow, by way of atonement for my 4-month disappeance from the blogosphere, I offer my top 10 "You know you're doing too much when..." list.
10. "I really want coffee, but it will just keep Speedy up, which kinda defeats the purpose..."
9. My sling allows me to take multi-tasking to a whole new level: I can feed Speedy, feed myself, pee, and send a text message all at the same time!
8.I'm afraid someone is going to call the police some day because, 'A woman with a shaved head, carring a suspicious black bag just got into an unmarked black truck...Oh my G-d, now she's plugging into the truck and attaching wires to her chest!'
7. While Bob, my mechanic, was changing the oil in my truck, I fired up the laptop so that I could show him baby pictures.
6. At a time-management seminar, my boss asked why I took off so quicky at the break. "Because, we have 20 minutes, which is exactly how long I need to pump." (I also returned voicemails, had a snack, and scandalized a few folks in the women's lounge...)
5. Our office manager can accurately guess what Speedy will be having for lunch based on the color of his shirt. Green shirt? Peas! Saves on clean-up.
4. One of Speedy's first uses of the sign for "light" was to crawl over to a colleague's computer during an early-morning trip to the office and inform me that he was checking out the green "light" on the back.
3. "Running home from work wasn't so bad. The baby jogger & kid were ok -- I'll skip the 24 oz of breastmilk and day's worth of wet cloth diapers next time, though."
2. I routinely have to get a co-worker to hold Speedy while I move the plants out of his carseat wher I have buckled them in.
1. "Wow, if I buy batteries for my pump, I can express milk while walking!" (Note: I have never pumped while driving, nor am I planning to.)
5.31.2006
B.O.B.
I haven't posted since going back to work full-time. No big surprise -- it's the time of year when all landscapers' spouses threaten divorce, because we're only home to sleep and maybe eat. (Only if we're nursing, it's to eat, and maybe sleep. And sweetie, could you bring me a big glass of water, please?)
I still have plantar fasciitis. And, like a dummy, I'm still running. Not too much mileage, but at minimum a few miles every weekend.
But all of that is about to change, as we have welcomed the newest member of our running blog-family, B.O.B. No, not my dad. Our beautiful yellow hi-tech running stroller.
My initial reaction after taking it for a spin to Alewife & the turtle pond on Sunday: it really is as light as they say. Corners like a semi, but that's not a big deal for distance running. My shoulders didn't hurt the next day, even though the handlebar is a little high. And the shocks are great -- Speedy's head didn't bang around at all. He played with Ducky (caribeenered to BOB) and took a nap on the way home.
Freedom!!!
I still have plantar fasciitis. And, like a dummy, I'm still running. Not too much mileage, but at minimum a few miles every weekend.
But all of that is about to change, as we have welcomed the newest member of our running blog-family, B.O.B. No, not my dad. Our beautiful yellow hi-tech running stroller.
My initial reaction after taking it for a spin to Alewife & the turtle pond on Sunday: it really is as light as they say. Corners like a semi, but that's not a big deal for distance running. My shoulders didn't hurt the next day, even though the handlebar is a little high. And the shocks are great -- Speedy's head didn't bang around at all. He played with Ducky (caribeenered to BOB) and took a nap on the way home.
Freedom!!!
3.07.2006
Gah! Diapers!
Yesterday, I went into work for a full day. Speedy came with me for 4 hours -- we, plus the stroller, carseat, diaper bag, and breast-pump, got to ride the commuter rail -- then the Antarctic explorer picked him up and they hung out for the afternoon. I missed him a lot, but it felt great to use my brain for several consecutive hours.
Today went a lot less smoothly...
9:49 wake up from nap w/ Speedy; race to dress both of us for work; tuck tape measure & trowel in diaper bag.
10:00 Zipcar reservation starts. Toyota Matrix waits patiently in Davis Sq. while we barrel along with the stroller. Tick, tick!
10:14 Arrive at the car; do carseat; curse traffic.
10:23 Gah! Diapers! Turn car around and return home to put out the diapers. (We're going to visit the grandparents, and a week of festering diapers is not acceptable, no matter how late we're running!)
10:31 Set out from house again, looking forward to getting a work truck because (a) I can leave the carseat base in it, and (b) it doesn't have an hourly rate and steep penalty for late return.
...
11:44 Return Zipcar to its parking space after a successful estimate; feel like a Visa commercial:
Car-share - $6.25/hr.
Decaf placebo to fool body into consciousness after only 4 hours of sleep - $1.80
Getting back in time to nurse in the car in peace - Priceless.
Today went a lot less smoothly...
9:49 wake up from nap w/ Speedy; race to dress both of us for work; tuck tape measure & trowel in diaper bag.
10:00 Zipcar reservation starts. Toyota Matrix waits patiently in Davis Sq. while we barrel along with the stroller. Tick, tick!
10:14 Arrive at the car; do carseat; curse traffic.
10:23 Gah! Diapers! Turn car around and return home to put out the diapers. (We're going to visit the grandparents, and a week of festering diapers is not acceptable, no matter how late we're running!)
10:31 Set out from house again, looking forward to getting a work truck because (a) I can leave the carseat base in it, and (b) it doesn't have an hourly rate and steep penalty for late return.
...
11:44 Return Zipcar to its parking space after a successful estimate; feel like a Visa commercial:
Car-share - $6.25/hr.
Decaf placebo to fool body into consciousness after only 4 hours of sleep - $1.80
Getting back in time to nurse in the car in peace - Priceless.
2.08.2006
Work with Me, Baby
Speedy & I went into the office yesterday to pick up materials for a safety program I'm putting together and install some trial landscaping software from NE Grows. After catching the wrong bus, walking longer than planned, and emergency nursing in the park by Town Hall (covered by a blanket -- not for modesty, but because it was so cold and windy), we arrived to the delight of Nana J, the office manager who "retired" this summer. We worked for 3 hours! This working mom thing might actually be possible. I have been skeptical about working from home, ever since a cursory web search revealed that WAHM (work-at-home-mom) has come to mean specifically former SAHMs who now run one or many home-based entrepreneurial ventures, ranging from designing fabulous diaper covers to telemarketing. Moms who renegotiate their existing work to be home-based seem to have another name, which I have yet to discover. If anyone can enlighten me (or better yet, point me to resources), I'd be much obliged. Encouragingly, my visiting mom, an architect, mentioned she recently found a photo of herself doing a site visit, in which her (now college-age) infant daughter is visible in a carseat on the kitcen counter. The sales rep at a local nursery also shared a story of taking her kids on site with her when she worked as a mason. She brags about hosing off mud-covered pacifiers, and about her daughter finding the perfect chinking pieces when she was a toddler!
1.31.2006
Not as Bad as It Sounds
Speedy & I learned a new term today: slab-jacking. No, it has nothing to do with raw meat, theft, or sex.
You know when you are wheeling down the sidewalk and you have to pop a wheelie with the stroller to jump up an uneven piece of sidewalk, often dislodged by a tree? Slab-jacking is one remedy to this. (An easier one is: don't plant big trees in little tiny holes...) Rather than replacing the whole sidewalk, the too-low slabs are drilled with holes and injected with concrete under high pressure, until they are jacked up level with their abutters.
Ok, so it's only cool if you're a plant geek or disability rights activist.
Anyway, Speedy was amazingly tolerant of the whole expo center & lecture hall thing today. He barely fussed. However, he continues to prove that he knows when to cry to optimize social disruption -- in this case announcing our entry to the No Name restaurant during the packed lunch hour. I tried to get some friends to sit for him so that I could spare him tomorrow's session on green roofs, but no dice.
In other news: I ran for 22 consecutive minutes today at the gym! I will be able to complete the St. Paddy's Day 5K without walk breaks. Yay!
You know when you are wheeling down the sidewalk and you have to pop a wheelie with the stroller to jump up an uneven piece of sidewalk, often dislodged by a tree? Slab-jacking is one remedy to this. (An easier one is: don't plant big trees in little tiny holes...) Rather than replacing the whole sidewalk, the too-low slabs are drilled with holes and injected with concrete under high pressure, until they are jacked up level with their abutters.
Ok, so it's only cool if you're a plant geek or disability rights activist.
Anyway, Speedy was amazingly tolerant of the whole expo center & lecture hall thing today. He barely fussed. However, he continues to prove that he knows when to cry to optimize social disruption -- in this case announcing our entry to the No Name restaurant during the packed lunch hour. I tried to get some friends to sit for him so that I could spare him tomorrow's session on green roofs, but no dice.
In other news: I ran for 22 consecutive minutes today at the gym! I will be able to complete the St. Paddy's Day 5K without walk breaks. Yay!
1.29.2006
An Intrusion of Realism
Grammy is gone, and it's back to solo mommyhood, with the added bonus of Jesse being sick. On the plus side, I spoke with my boss on Friday, and it looks like I'll be able to work from home a good bit this season, which lessens the "I'm only working so I can afford childcare" dilemma. Speedy is accompanying me to the largest landscaping trade show in the US this week, so we'll get to see how being a "working mother" in the most simultaneous sense plays out...
Today's run started out discouraging, but improved once I realized that "shorts weather" for running is a bit too cool for run-walk training. My legs weren't cramping because I was weak, but because I should have been wearing tights to keep the muscles warm during walks. So, I ended up shorting the walk breaks to a minute or less, and got home sooner than expected.
Maybe there's a good lesson there about new parenthood: when things don't work quite as expected, it's not (necessarily) because one sucks as a parent, but because the pace and climate are slighty different with a baby, a mommy-body, etc.
E.g.: I breezed into a noon meeting last week with hands full, coffee sloshing, having just devoured a muffin for "lunch" after running errands all morning. Par for the course for me, and previously not a problem, except now the meeting was of a new moms' group, and I'm trying to compose myself without waking Speedy as I remove him from the Baby Björn. (Other moms and babies look on, as if I just missed the complimentary Valium ingested by everyone else at the start of the meeting.)
Eh. Más se perdió en la guerra.
Today's run started out discouraging, but improved once I realized that "shorts weather" for running is a bit too cool for run-walk training. My legs weren't cramping because I was weak, but because I should have been wearing tights to keep the muscles warm during walks. So, I ended up shorting the walk breaks to a minute or less, and got home sooner than expected.
Maybe there's a good lesson there about new parenthood: when things don't work quite as expected, it's not (necessarily) because one sucks as a parent, but because the pace and climate are slighty different with a baby, a mommy-body, etc.
E.g.: I breezed into a noon meeting last week with hands full, coffee sloshing, having just devoured a muffin for "lunch" after running errands all morning. Par for the course for me, and previously not a problem, except now the meeting was of a new moms' group, and I'm trying to compose myself without waking Speedy as I remove him from the Baby Björn. (Other moms and babies look on, as if I just missed the complimentary Valium ingested by everyone else at the start of the meeting.)
Eh. Más se perdió en la guerra.
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