Buy an Old 97's cd, build a house

Here's an opportunity I learned about when we bought a copy of the new Blame it on Gravity CD at the Old 97's show the other night. For every 234 CDs they sell, a sign at the merchandise table announced, someone in an area hit by Katrina gets the materials they need (about $3,000 US of lumber etc.) to build a whole house. A small house, but a house nonetheless.

Only thing is, on their online store, I don't see one whisper about this promotion. Maybe you can only do it by buying a CD from the merch table at shows. That would be too bad -- this is a great idea.

Silky for all, especially the needy

My mother makes this amazing lotion that she even found a great name for: Silky. She cooks up a bunch of different unguents and essential oils into a soothing balm for any skin. She was inspired I think by our search for lotion for our daughter's dry skin in our dry climate. We went through the gamut: from the Palmer's Cocoa Butter to the Eucerin to the mustard oil, from petroleum jelly to Un-Petroleum Jelly. When I could tolerate their scents, I liked the healing balms that contained ingredients such as calendula, vitamin e oil, and cocoa butter. And now my mother makes one with all this and more for us, which I have come to use, too. She even made my sweetie one she called "Silky Boy." She's so clever.

She really is. My mother learned to put a label on each jar that says what's in each batch (having regretted not doing so on one earlier and very successful batch). She also adds this little in-joke: "Bar code: Tom's Tavern." (Explanation: After the recent death of Tom Eldredge, his beloved Boulder burger joint closed after a long and slow-but-steady term as a fixture of downtown Boulder. I have fond memories of playing shuffleboard in there and having burgers when I was a kid, and fond memories of going there with my mother and daughter recently. I even got some other old Boulderites to go there for the first time a few months ago, and I'll bet they're glad they did before it was gone; now, they even have a story to tell other nostalgic Boulderites: "Oh, Tom's Tavern? Funny, but we never went there, in all those years it was there, until just before it closed.")

But what I wouldn't give to hire some people and rent a professional kitchen, so my ma could develop the formulas and make her Silky lotions in larger quantities. I like to slather it on after showers, before swimming, before doing any kind of rough work with my hands, and I put it on exposed skin before I ski or spend time outdoors. I don't think my skin has been this smooth since I hit puberty. And now that I've lost some weight and I've been getting fitter again, I am finding that it's helping with all that stretchiness a little, too. Not a lot, but a little. My mother has added a few people onto the short list of people for whom she will make it, such as her friends who have cancer and whose skin is being thoroughly altered by the chemotherapy. That lotion is such a gift. It's something my mother does that makes a big difference to us, and could make a big difference to a lot more people besides us. I'd love to help her make it for the athletes; and anyone else who likes healthy, soft skin (and doesn't like putting petroleum jelly on their bodies).

The Creative Body

I thought of this name and it just opened all these doors in my mind. I love being fit and flexible; it makes me feel so much more open and creative. So what does it mean? The creative body: A body of creative work, creativity in approaching our bodies and selves and their relationship with the earth, a different way of seeing the whole of ourselves (as say, our physical selves plus our generative selves, the ones who want to make our mark on the world and leave something with those around us). It suggests a way to honor all the parts of yourself that want to coexist, a way to integrate and honor them all.

Taking up space

In this An Inconvenient Truth era, I foresee that there will be an increase in the incidence of eating disorders like anorexia and bulimia. I believe on some fundamental level some of us -- especially women, who tend to be raised to be sensitive to the needs of others -- are afraid that we have too strong an effect on the environment, even by virtue of simply being alive and participating in our culture. It's hard to justify eating meat, for example, because of the resources it takes to produce each pound we consume; yet if you feel this way it can be just a step down a slippery slope to the point where even consuming plant products can seem presumptuous on our part. Add to that the image of the ideal woman in this culture: skinny, fit, never eating or drinking too much, not taking up too much space, and there's an apparently ecologically sound reason to deprive ourselves of food.

But this isn't right. Without energy we're no good. This is where a measure of fatalism is helpful to me: I feel if I was placed here in this time and culture, then I am here for a reason and should do all I can with my time to change the things I believe need changing before my time is up. And again, I need nourishment in order to do my work here. I'm lucky to have a lot of choices about my nutritional choices, and I know a lot of people are not so fortunate. But I want more people to have the choices and the freedoms I do, so I will speak up about our right to exist and take up space, to eat what we need to survive, to feel strong and healthy and powerful, no matter our size. That's a big part of what feminism means to me.

Another rock opera to write, darn it

Wouldn't it be interesting to make a film of how the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main St. came to be? Plenty is known about it -- but what would it be like to be there? Everyone wants to look at bands' whole arc, yet how interesting to zoom in on that moment that seemed to encapsulate all the roots and decadence and greatness that would come to define the band. (Plus they had Nicky Hopkins back then, always a good thing, IMHO.)

Here's a good idea: Amazon or some other big internet company could institute a "buy local" program that invests a little in every locality where the money was spent -- the hard part would be figuring out how to allocate money like that. But think of the good will it would generate for anyone who did this for some company. The couple of cents on every purchase could go to some nonprofit umbrella organization that invests in community development in each county or city. Or people could apply for grants from a community foundation in the company's name. The company that did something like this would generate such good will. I'm thinking of companies that buy and sell from people in a lot of different places, like iTunes or Netflix or Amazon or Lands End that simply fill orders. It seems like an opportunity to grow not only your business but your community?

Would this seem far too socialist a concept for most people I know? I believe people like me go out of our way to buy things from people who invest in the communities who are making their profits possible. This kind of investment stands to exponentially increase benefits to both parties over time.

Target might be a good example of this. They've had local giving programs for years and have shown growth over time by steadily building their customer base. I don't know many people who don't go to Target. It's the K-Mart for the new millenium. Whole Foods does a nice thing once a week in the summer and early fall by providing food and staff and cooking and selling little dinners in front of the store for an hour or two at $3 per plate, with all money collected going to a local school. The food is always good and it raises a fair amount of money each time, all donated by the store. It must be a fabulous tax write-off for Whole Foods, but it is also a visible effort that directly benefits our community on several levels -- money raised for the school and an inexpensive, high-quality dinner for us for very little money.

I'd love to go to Bonnaroo