Happy Holidays from our Family

Dancer husband just called me, on his way over to put dinner in the oven at my sister “Barbie’s” house. Apparently the wood chip stealing psychopathic neighbor’s family has been holding a $20 grudge against us. Yes, over the woodchips. WIth a little verbal huffing and physical threatening, the brother-in-law was able to get the $20 back from Dancer husband.

Huff. Puff. Let it go. I wanted to go across the street and hit him with our 93 year old neighbor’s big metal shovel. But I didn’t.

My motto for now and into the new year: There is only room for love. If you steal my chips in love, so be it. If you are full of anger and rage over your living situation, it is your anger and rage, not mine. If you don’t shovel your sidewalk, ever, it is your Karma, not mine. 2009 is the year of love. There is room for nothing else.

Angel Baby showed this to the entire mall AND bus ridership of the 32 to/from Rosedale Mall.

We were running out of time to see the big man in red, so Angel & I donned our winter gear and hopped the 32. No rush, no bustle, just did it at 4:58. By the time we got to the St. Anthony Village Mall we remembered Santa’ gift. We hopped off the bus, dashed across the street and did a re-do. Back to the house, grab the gift, out to the bus again.

Santa was surprised by the gift and gave Angel Baby a hug. “You have to share it with Mrs. Claus,” he said.

It was super cute. The photos are awful. Full of love, but the camera dude is a little on the DSMIV range. Too scary to get a smile.

I wish you all love, healing and the ease of an eco-friendly New Year.

 

Angel Baby and Objectionable You Tube

I really need to change the settings on The Big One’s youtube account AND get rid of my three foot tall bookmark bar. Angel Baby recognizes the you tube logo from the Under Our Skin video was able to click to “How to have sex in a car” and one about a humping dog.

Angel baby. . .Angel Baby. . .ANGEL BABY!

I was going to post the video from the University of Phoenix, but I decided, with my young readers, it might not be such a good idea. It is good to know that a car-light family can learn about all the benefits of having a vehicle.

 

Two Weeks

Is that really possible?  “Forgive me Father for I have sinned.  It has been two weeks since my last confession.”

Life is full.  And it is not full of car related things, which is good.  We are trying to refer to our little guy as “Angel Baby” but it isn’t changing his demeanor.  The Big One has been buried under homework, and he has been sick since October 6 when he went on the boychoir tour and got no sleep.

Nita the Wonder Dog hates the car.  We take her to MacPhail on cold nights and sit in the car with her.  No, the car isn’t running.  As a car-light family, we are the ones who shut off their car in traffic.

I served on Jury Duty this past week.  They give you bus passes from metro transit, which I collected from the suburban folks, most of whom have serious transit phobia.  I didn’t mind getting their passes.  Express buses both ways for me and I was ready to serve within 40 minutes.  I intended to work on my NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month Project), but I was busy on a trial that lasted from Monday – Thursday.  So much for getting work done.  I read two books about Lyme Disease on the bus though and I finished Diane Wilson’s “Spirit Car”, a must read for anyone whose family settled in or around Minnesota.  It is a beautiful story about her mixed blood family, many of which were involved in the Dakota War of 1862.  It is a beautiful but painful read regardless of which side your family was on.  I would imagine mine, like Diane’s family, tragically straddled both sides.

A couple of things I’m grateful for these days:  I have a car that I can drive a mile to the health club so I can sauna.  Lyme Disease bacteria dislikes heat intensely.  Good Doctors and Shiatsu and Massage practitioners that truly care about helping me get well are on my team.  I’m preparing my body as best I can for the anti-biotic treatment that is quickly coming down the path.  Another day of learning.  It is what it is.  Lyme disease is awful.  The hardest part though is that I look well.  When I need to use the arm of my fellow juror to “all rise”, he doesn’t see why I might need that but graciously helps so I’m not held in contempt.

 

Hyper-Coagulating

Car-Free mama trudges along, trying to make her way to her computer to post. Been having some lousy car-light days lately. Some lousy days in general. It could be the blood. Could be my cheery disposition. Could be devil baby and his endless quest to hurt me. Or, I could just be bitter about owning a car.

I drove to vote. I drove to teach the step, rock, steppers and got lost. One day I even drove three blocks to pre-school.

I miss catching up on my reading, catching up on my writing, and being ‘of community’.

But I need The Little Red Wagon right now. And it is good. We had to move the car from our isolated little cul-de-sac this morning. “What?” you say, “A cul-de-sac in Minneapolis?”

Apparently the street got filled in decades ago to slow down traffic to the park. It slows down traffic. Even the drunks walking through slow down, tripping over the boulders that were strategically placed. I love our cul-de-sac, the new home of ‘Lil Red. Today, however was leaf sweeping day, so we moved the car to Lowry.

Rainy day. Driver’s door a few feet from the swooshing cars. Don’t car drivers realize that pedestrians, even ones that are just on their way to their cars end up getting wet from their excessive speed?

I’m a crabby driver. I don’t like being cut off. I don’t like being in traffic. Traffic? I had forgotten how stressful it is.

I miss the carefree carfree life. But right now, I just can’t go back.

 

Car free family gets busted!

One of our neighbors (not the mulch stealer) who shall remain unnamed, called 311, the City of Minneapolis Information line on us.

As I sat filling out reams of paperwork for The Big One’s Kick Off Meeting for the Minnesota Boychoir I saw flashing lights in my eyes. Painfully aware that my neurological system is on overload, I thought nothing of it and did the usual dog shake to get myself centered again. Still flashing.

There she was. The transit cop. Affinity is not a word I would use for my feelings around transit cops. When my cousin was killed by one in an ugly domestic in New York, I stacked the stereotypes and the hatred in my body. I approached this one with caution.

“May I help you?”

“Just trying to get the trailer off the boulevard.”

“That’s ours.”

“We got a complaint through 311.”

“Ah. The neighbors. Could we just move it?”

“Sure. Just attach it to your car and you can leave it here forever.”

Yeah. Car. Okay. Let me think that one through.

“We don’t have a car. Could we just push it up the hill into the yard.”

“Sure. I have to wait though.”

So, Dancer husband with the bad shoulder and I with my chest pains and shortness of breath (not to mention the dizziness and vibrating eyes) pushed that bad beast into the yard where it awaits the arrival of the housing inspector.  Anyone need some dried up old pine boughs for a nice summer fire?  I’ve got some I need to get rid of asap.

I love my neighbors. Even the mulch stealer. But the neighbors in the dollhouse next door — their perfect dog whose poop doesn’t smell and the lawn where weeds never grow. Those I could live without. The last issue brought out the shaken fist over Devil Baby peeing on a tree. That was the day of National Night Out and she and her husband who ALWAYS attend stayed in the house with the drapes drawn. The drama before that was the issue of our awning up against OUR house.

“I can’t get behind it to weed. You have to move it.”

My house. My awning. Technically, my weeds.

I moved the awning. Her shaking fist scares me.

 

The Big One does his first solo downtown bike trip!

Look at my sweet, sweaty boy.  He is where we are fundamentally different.  I would rather risk looking dumb putting my bike on and off the bus rack then ride up the hill on a hot August day.  He did it.  He totally did it.  And he rode down Hennepin Avenue in the center of the Avenue on the bike path.

He is an amazing urban cyclist.

Yeah!

 

Whirlwind Month for the Car-Free Family

It’s been a wild one folks.  Really wild.  Been having these awful symptoms that were making me crabby.  Saw my Doctor who has two grown kids who are car-free and we started getting closer to some answers.  Chest pains.  Out of shape mama (how can I be in such bad shape if I ride and walk up that damn hell many times per week).  Shortness of breath.  My heart is fine.  My iron is high.  Lots more to learn, I guess.  I’m still hung up on the stress echo.  I asked the cardiologist, “Do I have the fitness level of a couch potato?”

He replied, “Not a 400 lb couch potato.”

Nice.  I’m out of shape.  Unusually out of shape.

During all of this, we got 15 yards of black dirt/compost.  12 yards of mulch, which our neighbor who I might call Path Man (sort for pathologic), stole this evening.  Get this:

Me:  “What are you doing?”

Path Man:  “Getting some mulch.  If you think that I’m stealing it, I’m not.”

Me:  “No, I didn’t think that.”

Steaming, I run into the house to figure out why my husband would give away mulch that cost us a fortune.  He didn’t.  The guy must of hauled 3 – 4 wheelers full.

To quote the Devil Baby, “Whatever.”

I’ll be in touch.  Gotta run, and run, and run.  It is finally raining.

 

Happy Anniversary?

Tuesday came and went with no mention of the word “Anniversary”. I couldn’t decide what to do. Should I mention it to anyone? “A year ago, Daddy’s body was trashed and he could have been killed, kids. Let’s go out for dinner and celebrate.” It just didn’t feel right.

So, I avoided it. It’s been a year. And 2 days. I don’t like to think about what could have happened, but my brother would sure like me to. He sells insurance. Life. Disability, et al. I just don’t like to think about it.

On a brighter note, it seems as if I’m stalking our green mayor. After I invited him on a family bike ride around town, he seems to be ignoring me. One quick Facebook exchange and then nothing. I know he’s got a full life with all of those Elephants coming to town, so I will forgive him for now, but I’m waiting, R. T. Still waiting.

 

The Blackbird Bike Ride!

Last night on our all-too-often walk up to Pop! our favorite french fry joint, we saw an amazing bike. After we fed a 1/3 of the french fries to our dog (really people, the vet tells us to. . .balances her electrolytes) the owners of the bike came out.

What a story. They ride this thing all over. 800 miles this year. 2,000 total last. And they aren’t uber athletes, either. Just regular people. They came from Roseville to dine at Snap, two doors down from Pop! I hope to have a photo, soon! The Big One has a camera phone, we just have to figure out how to make that happen. In the meantime, visit: blackbirdbikes.com it is a local company!

We got a ride, good conversation and knowledge. Car-free living is so sweet.

 

I’ll be buying gas next week. . .

I’ve driven a whole lot in Tom’s car. We’ve had it since Friday and I’ve been to the movie store twice, the grocery store once, and today in the extreme heat, I drove to yoga. Down the hill. I’d like to flog myself, but my blood pressure tanked yesterday and the dizziness from the heat is staggering. Literally. No apologies for that one. The useless trip to the thrift store the other day was ridiculous. It really is seductive.

Took the bus to acupuncture earlier today though, dragging Devil Baby down the street. We met up with Papa at the train stop on Hennepin. He was there on his fancy french bike, newly repaired by the brilliant bike monkeys at Scallywags Bike Shop. Tomorrow is another day.

I plan to let the car just sit along side my own slow moving body. With diastolic in the low 30’s, what’s a girl to do?

Car-free family tip of the day: Buy cellphones for everybody. It makes car-free life so much easier. Especially with a teenager who likes to take off on his bike!

 

Happy Birthday to The Big One!

The Big One at One

The Big One at age 8, opening presents on the toilet.

Look at how The Big One has grown!

Today is The Big One’s golden birthday. Yeah! He woke up, and in the tradition of confetti at wake-up on your birthday, I dropped 12 gold coins on his body. Then Papa did the same. Devil baby woke up an hour later and now we are all making breakfast, borrowing cars (more on that later) and getting our swimsuits on for our chilly afternoon at the Johnson Street Waterpark (known to some as Jim Lupient Water Park, but I just can’t fathom the idea of Minneapolis Parks being renamed for car dealers).

Gotta hop in my wheels to get eggs. I’m remembering the lazy days of owning a car. The seduction is overwhelming. Go, go, go. Go, dog, go.

 

Throw away kids. . .

Yesterday I rode a very crowded 10 bus downtown to my acupuncture appointment. I sat next to a 20-year-old kid who struck up a conversation with me. I was reading junk mail from the College I attended and he was interested. He went to a high school on the North side, the same one my dad graduated from. This kid was bright. Not just smart, but bright. “Do you go to College?” I asked him. “Nobody told me about College until I was in 12th grade. I didn’t even know what it was. By then my grades were so bad that no college would let me in. They told me I wasn’t college material. So now I work all the time.” he said.  He has his first child coming next month. He said, “Working or Babysitting. That’s what my life will be.” We talked like peers, which he never would have done if I wasn’t on the 10 bus with him. “You gotta get this straight, man. You can’t call it babysitting. When it is yours, it’s just parenting,” I told me. “Yeah,” he smiled at me. “That’s cool.”

When are we going to stop discounting kids? Who decided this kid wasn’t college material?  Kids always become what we expect them to be. A father at 20.  With a high school education.   I told him not to give up hope for college. I expect this kid to do great things. I hope that he sees that he still can.

 

A Year of Trisha – on the bus!

We traveled by bus to The Walker Art Center to watch work of Trisha Brown today. Robert was performing in “Planes” and afterward we had fun in the park. I thought I would die of heatstroke, my out of control hormones made my belly look pregnant and Tiny dancer Girl reached to congratulate me on my change of life pregnancy. I stopped her before she made a fool out of herself. Sometimes I hate my husband’s career.

Devil Baby can't ever find food he will eat. Scrounging again.

Dancer-Man

Robert Loving Trisha Brown

The Illustrious Paula Mann, amazing choreographer and great person.

 

How Green is Your Parade?

The Northeast Parade was as toxic as usual.  The Big One still loves it, and Devil Baby was up north with Grandma & Grandpa so he missed it.  Most years we see lots of neighbors and friends.  This year seemed less.  I think the whole suburb of Anoka was there though.  Laura Murphy and her volunteers at Eastside Neighborhood thrift store made my list of highlights.  They were walking down the street with a rack of great thrift store finds, including the Twister pants I bought the next day for The Big One for his birthday.  Shhhhhh.  It isn’t until Saturday so keep your mouth shut.

Check out those polka dot Twister Pants!

Met Al Franken’s daughter.  She was a joy to meet.  But the environmental factor?  Ugh.

Big Diesel Truck and the excessive balloons:

The beauty queens selling bottled water.

One of the hospitals giving away bags to hold your medical records.

The garbage.

The saving grace: Bike Power!

The best part though was seeing R. T. Rybak, Minneapolis’ fine Mayor. I told him I’d like to take him on a bike ride of our city with my car-free family. He agreed. I’m holding him to it, but I’d like to wait until it gets a little cooler. The diesel particulate seems lighter when it isn’t so hot.

 

Quick Recap as we head to the Northeast Parade

We are so far behind on our posts about our amazing adventures.  I saw our State Rep’s (Diane Loeffler) husband on the bus last week.  Cool.  He’s trying to do his part.  And, we’ve been eating a whole lot of diesel particulate.  I come home really dirty when I ride.  My kids, too.  I had lunch with my friend Rolfing Research gal who works for the PCA.  When I told her the “hug the bus” story, she said, “diesel particulate, it’s pretty bad,” or something like that.  It forever burned a diesel particulate sandwich image into my head.

Yesterday I rode to acupuncture down Central/3rd Avenue.  Almost got hit by a car as I crossed through downtown, but luckily, the Washburn McGreevy hearse that was following him gave me a wide berth.  Very nice.  I didn’t want my final bike ride to end with the side of a hearse coming at me.  I smiled at him.  He really did give me space.  It got me thinking.  Do driver’s really know that Bicyclists have rights?  That they get to just become traffic just like they are?  I don’t think so.  Did you learn that in driver’s ed?  I certainly didn’t.

Off to the parade.  Lots of diesel particulate from KDWB trucks, etc., a fair amount of horse droppings and lots of pretty girls for The Big One to chase.  Life is good, and Devil Baby is up at the lake with RV Grandpa and RV Grandma.

 

Red Light, Green light. I vote red light.

Yesterday Devil baby and I went to the airport to get The Big One. Trip was great, but instead of being 20 minutes early, they were late, and Devil Baby was his typical self. I’ve got this funky adrenal thing that makes my blood pressure drop when I am exerting myself and life with Devil Baby is constant exertion. I don’t have the energy to run down the street to save him from getting smacked by a bus, so I decided to play “red light, green light” on the mall outside the library with the boys yesterday. I got to sit and listen to my heart barely pump while they ran and stopped, ran and stopped.

Today, looking at the day from hell, I’m sitting here exhausted and crying. I know it will pass, but it will take us 4 buses to get The Big One to a concert tonight. I can’t rent an hourcar again because it isn’t in the budget AND we need to rent one this morning, unexpectedly, so we can quickly get to the uniform store to replace the navy shorts that he somehow lost on tour. Last minute crap doesn’t lend itself to a car-free life.

So, no yoga for me today. And hours on the bus. Today I say, “red light” on this car-free life. I want to give up.  And, I’m so far behind on posting.  I think I might just go back to bed.

 

The Big One’s First post/ A little (Bloody) detour in our ride home from Circus class + The fire house

Last Thursday, we were on our way home from (me) busting my back at circus and Mom Working lazily on her laptop. ON our way back Mom was Unlocking her bike but mine was already out so I tore off on my BLUE bike after my friend Clown Boy To the Left. (We normally go up to the right.) So my Mom Biked up the hill and saw a Lot of cars stopped and a BLUE bike on the ground. And Was crying “Is it Big One? Is it Big One??”  Meanwhile I had come around and biked up the hill and I thought “Car crash.” Then I saw the bike and the woman on the ground with blood all over.

She had a lacerated skull and you know how heads BLEED!!   Mom Yelled “Hasn’t  anyone called someone?”

2 minutes later we heard the sirens.  The whole nine yards came.

The person who Hit this lady was my friend Ariel Girl’s dad.  He Was…. Ok I mean think about it This lady we were thinking that she had *had a couple* and she Jumped out in front of the car anyways… But they said she was gonna be fine. As this lady is saying:” Get your @%$*Ing Hands off me. No you can’t use my *^&% Sweat shirt to mop up the blood.”

All this time Ariel girl is just sitting there shaking. So Mom goes over to her dad and says “I’m Just gonna sit with her over here okay?”

Then a really kind fire-fighter came over and said: “You have no need to worry… she’s going to be fine, you know how heads bleed.”

So then we said goodbye to Ariel girl and her dad and we hopped on our bikes and rode home. Making sure to look where we were going. we didn’t need another Bloody detour in our day.

When we got home Devil Child said “I’m not going to sleep unless we go the the fire house.

So after we told Dad about the Bloody detour We left for the fire house.

We had a Full tour including the JAWS OF LIFE!

On our way Home we met this woman,  Curly haired dog owner. So my parents Talked and talked with her but finally it was time to go home. (this was at 10:00)   But on our way home we saw Curly haired dog owner’s ipod on the ground. I picked it up and said “Here’s another detour in our day.” Mom and I went to go return it and Devil Child and Dad went home…

After we found her house (by asking the neighbors where it was) We found out she wasn’t home. So we went home and tried looking online for her number and we found nothing. My mom went and got a facebook account and lookey there There she was. The next day she came and picked it up…

That’s all for The Big Ones First post.

MORE TO COME!

 

I should have married an Eagle Scout

Got a ride home from the Boychoir auditions from one of my all-time favorite Boychoir moms, Joiner Mom. She is to Boychoir what I will never be. Nope. Not a joiner. I learned something really important from her. She is married to Eagle Scout Dad, and he taught her not to wear jeans when it is raining.

I should have married the Eagle Scout. I was in a long Jean Skirt, The Big One was in jean shorts, and we stood out in the pouring rain under our gigantic umbrella. “No need to wear your rainpants honey.” My husband is clearly not an Eagle Scout. Handsome. Charming. Talented. Not an Eagle Scout.

We are still feeling a little water logged and my shoes will never be the same. New addition on the things we need to buy list. Rain Boots.

 

Angry Car Free Child

I was thrilled to see the blog listed at Best Green Blogs Editor’s Choice section this weekend. He called me “snarky”. I love that he was able to capture my true nature in one simple word. The Big One is mad as hell about the Car Free Family Blog and the fact that I’m getting all the “credit”. He is forced to “hug the bus” as we are pedaling on Broadway on the north side instead. A couple of angry hungover men yelled at us yesterday, one of them saying, “YOU F$#*kheads”. The Big One said, I don’t even get what that compound word means, Mom. Diversity in action. I think we took at least 2 years off our lives driving across the Broadway bridge back to Northeast. This was mile 10 or so. We rode our bikes to Unity Christ Church in Golden Valley. We were spiritually fed, and then got to suck the exhaust of a cement truck on our way home.

That’s living.

Just an FYI: The Big One is threatening to post on the blog. He wants credit where credit is due.

 

Deaths by Motor Vehicles

Chuck at behind bars is not a very social creature. Broke my heart today to hear a tale of how he lost business again because he sometimes appears to be a little gruff with his customers. We love him, gruffness and all. Today we were on our way (late) to Boom Island to meet up with the Urban Unschoolers. Cool group of folks. We stopped to see Chuck at Behind Bars and to buy a kick stand. Tears, tears, tear from both kids, and we ended up with 2 pairs of biking gloves to go with the kick stand. Biking is an expensive sport. To have a bike shop in our neighborhood is divine. Stop there. Don’t let Chuck scare you away. It is at 208 13th Ave NE in Minneapolis.  My kids love the shop more than any other in the neighborhood.

Anyway, as we were leaving, I told him the tale of my brother’s van, fence and house getting in the way of a high speed chase. My brother was asleep in his recliner like an old man. Glad he is okay. This is my local brother, the real estate agent. Be sure to buy a nice strong house from him. Check out these photos:

This was where the drunk hit the house. Bet the city attorney drops the charges so the County Charges will stick. That’s what happened with our felon.

This is where the fence used to be, but the drunk ran right through it, missing two huge boulevard trees. This guy was being chased by the police. Wanted for a hit and run. Lovely. Glad there will be some felony charges.

So, Chuck quotes me some figures from the CDC that I didn’t know. Less than 1,000 bikers died last year, but hundreds of thousands of motor vehicle fatalities. Cars are coffins. Or at least that’s what the t-shirt says. Yet another reason not to own one.

I thought about those figures all the way home, even though I don’t remember them, and I’m too worn out to find them on the CDC website. That hill seemed bigger today. Instead of having The Big One heft the Devil Baby up the hill, I pulled him on the Kona. Biker Mama, one of the Urban Unschoolers says I need to toughen up. I made a face at her when she mentioned that we should meet in Southwest Minneapolis. Toughen up? She is right.

On the way home, devil baby dropped the $20 gloves out of the burley, “just for fun”, and I had to leave the kids and backtrack to find them. The Big One needed the restroom so we stopped at the Hotdish King’s house. Luckily Mama Hotdish was home with her 2 little tator tots. I love Northeast.