Black Girl in Maine

Musings of a black woman living in the nation's whitest state

Tag Archives: Maine

Customers have voices too!

Back in the dark ages prior to the advent of social media, if you went to an eatery or business and the service or experience was lacking, you had few options to express your discontent. Sure you could ask for a manager or write a letter but by and large you the consumer (aside from telling folks in your personal circle to avoid the place like the plague) really had few options.

However social media has changed the game. Suddenly we the consumers have a voice and that voice can be quite loud. Many folks remember the story of blogger Dooce and her Maytag experience, now I admit I was on the fence with how she handled her dissatisfaction with their service but in the end by using her voice she was able to get the situation resolved. In the past few months I have had a few instances of service gone awry and thanks to social media (namely Twitter), the situations were resolved above and beyond what I expected.

In the first instance an e-coupon via Foursquare at the local Goodwill was not honored, in fact the clerks seemed clueless about the coupon and flat out refused to honor the five dollar off deal. (It was five dollars off any purchase of twenty five dollars or more) Now it wasn’t a huge deal to me but I did tweet about it and in the end Goodwill contacted me, compensated me more than the original coupon was worth and I was happy and will continue to patronize Goodwill of Northern New England. While the store clerk may have been clueless it was clear that they have social media savvy folks on staff who understands the value of social media in business.

In the second instance it’s an ongoing issue so I won’t get into all the details, but I will say a month or so back our car needed some work and we took it into our local shop which is a fairly large New England chain. Up until earlier this year we had a great relationship with the shop but the manager left and was replaced by a fellow who clearly is not as focused on keeping customers happy. Considering that the repair was just done a month ago, it took longer than we were told and it cost more, so you can imagine that I wasn’t feeling too happy when it became clear recently that the issue was obviously not resolved. So I took it to Twitter and it turns out this chain does indeed have a presence there and let’s just say they are working to make this a happy ending.

Now one might get the idea that maybe I like to be a rabble rouser, while that is true in some areas of my life I generally recognize that store clerks and restaurant servers are front line workers who basically deal with a lot of shit and make little money. So for all the times I am rubbed the wrong way and sadly I must say sometimes just my presence seems to be a factor, I generally let things roll off my back. Life is too damn short to get bent about every slight…in the end it’s just not that serious.

However I had an experience today while hanging out in Portland that well….pissed me the fuck off. Let me set the scene, the family and I went to a cool little arts festival, the type of thing I adore, and of course we didn’t eat lunch figuring we’d grab something there. But the choices were limited and the six year old is a picky eater which means by extension we are picky eaters, no allergies or sensitivities, she is just incredibly picky and will starve rather than eat what she does not want. I didn’t want to argue about food today, so I said screw it let’s find something she will eat. So off we go.

We walk over to the Old Port which is a cutesy touristy part of Portland with the types of shops that when I first moved here I went gaga over but now that my income is in line with the average Mainer and not the income we used to have, I generally avoid such cute shops. Y’all know the type…they scream “SPEND MONEY!” So we came upon a new eatery The Thirsty Pig, let me say I am married to a man that though he was raised in California he was born in Minnesota and I am convinced his Midwestern roots comes through in his eating. He is meh about sushi but loves a good sausage and beer. So when we spied The Thirsty Pig and saw it was basically sausages he was happy and hey they had hot dogs for the little one. Now I will be honest and say neither of these choices made me want to break into a song and dance but the kid was loudly letting us know she was hungry so I said cool let’s eat here.

From the moment I walked in the vibe felt off but as a mother with a hungry picky eater, I brushed it aside. Though the servers seemed frazzled and frankly the lackluster service pissed me off from the get go…hello! Of course I want to order, I have been sitting here ten minutes with a hungry kid! So we place our order, I decided on the lobster roll since it was the one item that spoke to me and I like a good roll and I figured with a price tag of $15.50, it would probably be a fantastic lobster roll!

That lobster roll was the nastiest things I have ever tasted, the rolls seemed a tad heavy, the lobster meat was very cold and had a very fishy taste and the mayo or whatever was at the bottom of the roll was just meh. To be honest the sandwich was so unpleasant and the fishy flavor so overpowering which concerned me that I left most of it on the plate. Instead eating my salt and vinegar chips and pickles….by the way I like salt and vinegar chips but many don’t including my picky eater, why not offer a plain chip too?

I know I am getting long here but hang with me kids, so the server came and asked was everything fine. I had that split second mental debate where I think do I say something or not, while my brain was debating my mouth said “No, it really wasn’t good”. Oops it seems my mouth got ahead of my brain. The server responds “Well let me get your check.” No offer of can I get you something else, I am so sorry just let me get your check. Look I didn’t expect her to take lobster roll off the bill thought it would have been nice but damn, what about asking if I would like something else? Shit at that point I would have taken a lettuce leaf or something but nope she brings me my check and that’s that.

I admit I was stunned and if it had not been for the presence of the wee one I might have asked for a manager but the kidlet is her explain everything to me stage and I just was not in the mood. So I say to The Thirsty Pig: a less than pleasant meal I can live with but a questionable meal combined with lackluster servers who clearly did not give a damn is just too much.

(Oh, and my husband’s BBQ banger sandwich wasn’t all that and a box of cracker jacks, either. It tasted OK but really, for $6.50 it could have been a little bigger and maybe had a casing on the sausage that wasn’t somehow both tough and slippery)

Marching in Maine

Today’s post might not hold much interest outside of Maine but hey the title of this blog is Black Girl in Maine; so occasionally I like to speak about what’s happening in my corner of the world. Lately it seems marches are all the rage in Maine, a few weeks ago we had a group of ladies who decided to march topless through the streets of our largest city, Portland. It seems these gals wanted to bring attention to the societal double standard that allows men to go topless in public but generally speaking does not extend to women. Turns out though in Maine, ladies you are free to go head out sans shirt and bra anytime you like as we have no law that prohibits you from doing so. The organizer was a tad pissed since it seemed her statement march attracted the attention of a bunch of men who wanted to look at the ladies marching without shirts. I don’t know… march if you like but from my view it seems that to not expect folks to stare is akin to sitting a dish of ice cream in front of most folks…it will be eaten. It’s just the nature of the beast..right or wrong. Though I must be honest I really don’t want to see anyone topless, hell only time I want to see the Spousal Unit sans a top is when…you know where I am going.

After the success of the topless ladies, it seems the open carry folks have set their eyes on our largest city for a gathering. These would be the folks who like to demonstrate that the constitution of these divided states is still valid and like walking around in public like they are wandering through the Ole West fully strapped.

I have been following the accounts of these folks and I guess if I could ask one question it would be why? Seriously, I understand out in California the open carry folks have been gathering in Starbucks….um, is there a high chance of getting jacked for your double shot mocha? For real, aside from the fact that you make others uncomfortable, why wear a gun where we can all see? Funny thing I often wonder how many of these folks carrying guns openly live in areas where it might stop a person from robbing you on the street?

I admit I am not much of a gun person, but hey if you want one in your house I get it. It’s just that when you decide to stand next to me inline flexing your gun on your hip I wonder what is the point? Other than to make me think let me get the hell away from you quickly.

So readers if you like to strap up with the gun when you head out, I would love to hear your reasons why…I am serious.

Blame it on the darkies

It’s Saturday night at the local mall, like all malls there is a pseudo swank jewelry store selling diamonds, gold and other treats. It’s no Tiffany’s but for the area it fits the bill. So you are working at this shop which is located in a fairly homogenous area where there aren’t a great deal of people of color. What walks in? Three Black people!

Let’s see the first fella is 6’7 and about 220lbs and he has bad teeth. His male companion is a nondescript cat who is about 5’10 and the female companion has yellow-orange hair that is up in a ponytail and oh she has large mole on the side of her face. Damn, this motley trio sounds rather unattractive and I know you are thinking damn BGIM, where are you going with this. Just sit tight readers.

So the motley three walks in and apparently the staff at this establishment  did not wish to appear racist despite the fact these three were rather curious looking individuals. So instead of doing their fucking jobs and keeping an eye on the joint, the staff allowed two of the crew to distract them while a third popped open the jewel cases, all the while the staff was oblivious that they were being robbed. It was only after the trio left that they realized they had been robbed, but darn it the store has no cameras so we have no photos just the amazing memories of the folks who work there. Who lets face it, they stood there and allowed the joint to get robbed.

Shit sounds like a bad skit but its true, here’s the link to the local story. I nearly fell out my seat when I read this story since I am Black and I have been jewelry shopping and lets just say even as middle class college educated Black person there are certain stores where it seems the staff is trained to keep all eyes on you. Look, these folks if they exist and let me say that again if they exist, walked in a jewelry store looking like  bad stereotypes and looted the place but no one saw a damn thing. Yeah right, tell that to someone who was born last night.

No, my money is on the fact that  this is an inside job after all do the clerks at these places really make a lot of money? Last I heard the jewelry industry is not what it used to be with times tough and maybe someone needed some extra cash. So somebody planned the heist knowing there are no cameras to capture the event and hey when in doubt and you need a villain, pin it on the Black folks. Hell go for the gold, not just one darkie, get three and as a nod to the fact they are not all violent we will make them gentler robbers. No mere brutes, they use their charm to distract the staff and get the goods.

Nope, not buying it and until you show me 3 Black folks matching those descriptions and either there is iron clad evidence or they confess. I say this is a case of blame the darkie. We all recall how in the last two decades we have seen a rise in crimes where upstanding white folks blame shit on the Black bogeyman. He stole my kids, he killed my wife, etc.

Look on behalf of my Black brothas and sistas who are upstanding citizens I say please stop blaming invisible Black folks for shit..how come no one ever blames a Chinese fella or the guy from Eastern Europe?.

That’s right…I am a Black Girl in Maine

Its been a strange day. Today was the last day of girl child attending the program she has been in since she was 13 months old. When she started at the center, over 3 years ago I was teaching part-time and after having spent the first 13 months at home being a very attached parent, to say I was nervous about putting her in daycare was an understatement. Yet very quickly the lovely staff at the center became like extended members of our family, for months they held her while she fell asleep, dealt with cloth diapers, and never once seemed put off with my overbearing ways.

Needless to say in recent weeks it was one of the hardest decisions we made when we had to face the reality that our finances could no longer support girl child staying in their wonderful preschool program. Actually last year we couldn’t afford it but sacrified everything to keep her there in hopes that our work situations would pick up, instead after landing my position last fall, things got worse. A month ago it hit me that we could not continue to live so close to the bone. Yet for the past several weeks, I kept hoping somehow things would work out, that someone would contact either I or the Spousal Unit for a contract position but it didn’t happen.

So we awoke this morning once again reminding girl child that today was her last day, we sent notes to her closet buddies and hope that they take us up on our offer to have some playdates. Truly a sad moment though we may be able to volunteer a few times a month and girl child will be able to go and play with her friends. What is unique about this center is that for being located in Maine which is a really white state, there were other children of color there. In fact her class was about 40% non-white and her closet friend is also biracial. Due to the make up of the school, I have been insulated from the reality of how white Maine is and how that might impact girl child but tonight well…we got the wake up call.

After saying our good-byes this afternoon, we had to rush off to the open house at the new and affordable preschool she will be attending. The new preschool is actually affiliated with the daycare/preschool she has been attending since they are both part of the YMCA but the daycare is a full-time program that runs full days whereas the preschool is only a few hours a week and they are in separate locations. Demographically the folks who send their kids to the full-time program either work or are in school whereas the new program is generally kids who have never been in a program.

So we (that would be me, girl child and Spousal Unit) roll up to the open house, walk in and well lets just say it was um…interesting. Every kid and corresponding parental unit was white, ok its Maine, that’s not the end of the world I say to myself.

Well as I noticed parents glancing at us and not making eye contact I started to get a tad uncomfortable but what really has me writing a rare second post in a day is the fact that girl child being the outgoing character that she is walked over to another girl and started playing, the little girl looked tentative but the child’s Mama looked bothered. She actually at one point grabbed her kid and when I started talking to her looked like she really did not want to respond to me.

Thankfully girl child was oblivious and the woman did eventually allow her child to play with mine, but that scene has me disturbed to my core. As my child went to wander and play some more, I noticed the looks of the kids and parents and it took everything for me to not cry…the Spousal Unit saw the look on my face, the one that generally means I am about to lose my cool and get gutter. Thankfully I did not, instead I brushed it off and put on my best damn snooty voice and held my head high but tonight as I write this the tears fall. They fall as I remember every miserable fucking year I spent as the only Black kid in the class, that was hard enough but at least I went home and saw Black folks.

I cry tonight wondering about our future and how long we will be here, truth is unloading this house would take an act of God so leaving is not an option. It’s funny because tonight I am reminded that Maine is a really white place yet whiteness has so many levels. I generally operate in that space here where I am surrounded by more liberal open types who embrace diversity which while at times as its drawbacks, it generally means folks who if they have beef with me, it’s because I am an asshole and not because I am Black. On the flip side are those who have less exposure to folks from different backgrounds and like tonight it shows.

So I have no idea what the future holds though girl child was oblivious which is a blessing and wants to go back and I have cautiously agreed to try it next week while we explore our options. But tonight I am reminded that I am a Black Girl in Maine raising a Black girl and at times it’s a lonely road.

Turn down the temperature

After a summer of wondering when summer was going to actually arrive, it seems summer has decided to arrive with a vengeance up here in my corner of the world. People always assume that people of color dislike cold weather and prefer hot weather, of course that is a silly stereotype but like many stereotypes they can sometimes be based in reality. (Though an informal poll amongst my friends of color shows only a handful share my love of cool weather) Take my father, he loves hot weather.  However his love of hot weather did not rub off on me, anything over 75 degrees is officially too hot and humidity? I hate humidity, of course being a seasonal allergy sufferer humidity only seems to make me feel even worse and combined with heat, I become a cranky lady.

I on the other hand love crisp cool days, thankfully summer is a brief season in Maine so I am trying not to complain too much, though beach trips are fun, so summer has some uses!

So while its nice to see the sun, the fact that its 80+ with humidity is making me cranky and sadly my resolve to not use air conditioning this summer has gone out the window. Can someone please turn down the heat? Or at the very least turn off the humidity switch? Thanks!

Joys of Maine…a day in the life of BGIM

I realize that sometimes I rant so much that it might be hard to imagine why I continue to stay in Maine aside from the fact who in their right mind would buy an old ass house that needs tons of work from me? But yesterday was one of those days that reminds me of why I enjoy Maine.

We left the house after doing our usual Sat trek to the farmers market and library and ended up going for a drive. The drive took us to one of the lighthouses here in Southern Maine as well to park with a neat fort….amazing entertainment that is free and appeals to the almost 4 year old in the house. (Elder boy decided to sleep all day…gotta love teens!) After exploring the lighthouse and fort, our tummies were rumbling so we found the coolest cafe/bakery near the lighthouse with mostly cheap fresh food. Though $4.50 was a tad high for a plate of eggs and toast for girl child, the plate was filled to almost overflowing with eggs.

After eating, we ventured to a never seen before Goodwill which I discovered was the best one I have found thus far in Maine since all the prices were $4.99, scored a lovely vintage summer dress…made Mama very happy. At that point it was time to head home along the way we stopped off for ice cream at a local candy shop and a chance to view the life size chocolate moose.

Clearly it was a full day and I would have been happy to call it a day but not wanting elder child to be left out, I took him out last night to hear some live music at a new venue in the town next door…it was a night that included good music, hanging with my son, chatting with friends and a special treat for Mama…3 glasses of sangria (why have I only just discovered sangria…must get a recipe). Regular readers know I have a driving phobia so we walked home from the venue, about a mile or so at 11 at night and it was a peaceful walk, the type of walk that back home in Chicago I could not imagine doing late at night after a few drinks.

Anyway that’s a day in the life of the Black Girl in Maine and just a snapshot into why I live here.

The follow-up

In case you are interested in the follow up to my last post, I am posting the column that was accepted by my editor…which has spawned a conversation with my editor and a meeting for next week. I will keep you posted on whether or not, I will keep writing professionally since its really just a side thing I do since my real day is non-profit hack! By the way I have not responded to any of the comments on the last post but may do so in a separate post since I think the comments are interesting and actually speak to some of what happens with multiracial discussions take place.

Me, myself and race

I have been told by many different people at many different times that I put too much thought into race. That perhaps I overreact to things and see race as a factor when it might not be.

You should have met me years ago if you think that, because I really don’t obsess on race that much. To be honest, my White husband is far more likely to get into protracted battles of words online with people about race and White privilege than I ever would in any situation.

However, I do have a column called Diverse-City, race is still an important issue in this country, and I’m still Black. And a lot of people just won’t let me forget the color of my skin, because they still treat me differently than every white person around me. It doesn’t matter how many letters I have amassed after my name. It doesn’t matter what my job is. It doesn’t matter how law-abiding I am. What matters is that, like it or not, people assume things about Black people in general. This is not something that happens to White people.

Oh, I know that White people of various kinds can be judged on various things, like weight or gender. But as a race, White people don’t ever have to worry about most of the population looking at them and assuming that the color of their skin means they will behave in certain ways, like certain foods, enjoy certain music, be more prone to commit crimes, be more likely to have children they can’t afford, and so on.

Problem is, when I point out that I’m being treated in a certain way probably because of my race, I am often asked to prove it. My judgment is questioned. My experiences of an entire lifetime are discarded as irrelevant. My instincts are cast into doubt. Studies that show how Blacks are inequitably treated all the time are inadmissible. In other words, short of being able to bring in a team of researchers to study my life for a few years, nothing will prove to a naysayer that my feelings are on the money.

So, if I speak up, I must be prepared to get all sorts of alternate scenarios and reminders of how far our nation has come. All to invalidate my very real concerns and the evidence of my own experience.

If a parent takes a child away from a playground because someone seems a bit creepy, even if they haven’t gone near a single child in an improper fashion, that’s considered good parenting. I agree.

If a woman flees from a man she thinks might be dangerous, that is considered a wise and proactive move. I agree.

So why does no one else agree that I can claim racism when:

My Black son is harassed by police, multiple times, for merely walking down the street.

My White husband is asked during a traffic stop to explain who I am and why I’m in the car.

Five White people in front of me in line don’t get a second glance when they hand over a credit card, yet I am expected to provide one or two forms of ID, and the cashier looks them over intently for 10 seconds or longer.

I am asked to explain how all Black people feel about a certain issue.

I get my food long after several later-arriving White patrons already got theirs, and their food is nice and steamy while mine is room temperature.

I could go on, but the fact is that I let most of these things slide, and don’t want to dwell on them. It’s just that I occasionally get fresh reminders that are so hard to ignore.

Oh, like eminent Harvard professor Henry Louis “Skip” Gates Jr. being arrested this week for breaking into his own home, even though he had ID to prove he lived there. Because we all know that the nice police officer would have done that to a White homeowner. Yeah, right.

And we wonder why we are still talking race in post-racial America

If you are sensitive to discussions about race, do me and you a favor and just skip this post…I am talking race today and it might start feeling a smidge uncomfortable. What you are about to read is a column I wrote for a local publication that was rejected by my editor on the basis that maybe when I am talking race, I am the one with the chip on my shoulder. It was suggested that I need to look at why I get so bothered by racial things…I don’t know maybe its because as a Black woman living in these divided  States of America that despite having a Black president racism is still a fact of life and as much as I wish race wasn’t an issue that I didn’t haveto think about, that just is not the world I live in….

Uncomfortable in my own skin

I’m proud to be Black. I sometimes joke with my husband that I’d like a “White suit” for those days I don’t want to deal with preconceptions from other people that derive from the color of my skin but the fact is: I wouldn’t want to be White.

Then again, lately I feel conspicuous in my dark skin. So, what’s the trigger for that?

Hell, what aren’t the triggers?

In the nearly three months since David Okot was killed by the Portland Police after reportedly waving a gun around in a threatening fashion, I’ve watched the continued deterioration of relations between Somali and Sudanese immigrants and the police. Seems like whenever police have to chase a Somali or Sudanese kid for stealing something, now they’re accused of harassing these two groups. And lately, there have been rumblings that when the police are called by some Somali and Sudanese residents of Portland, the calls might be ruses to lure police into confrontations.

Closer to my home, Rory Holland of Biddeford in late June reportedly shot dead, at 1 a.m., brothers Gage and Derek Greene–aged 19 and 21–outside his home. Holland has a criminal record going way back, for a variety of unsavory crimes, and is the kind of guy who seems to like to file lawsuits against people for fun and profit.

Also, there is Shalom Odokara, who runs Women in Need and was vice chairwoman of Portland’s Planning Board until city officials learned that she recently pled guilty to criminal charges in federal court. She was already on probation after pleading guilty in 2006 for embezzling $108,000 from the World Bank, and in 1989 she was convicted for trafficking heroin from Nigeria to Maryland.

As if that’s not enough, it turns out that Portland city council member and current mayor Jill Duson apparently knew about at least portions of Odokara’s criminal past already, and didn’t tell her colleagues, nor ask Odokara to resign.

Can you guess what Okot, Holland, Odokara and Duson all have in common?

Yeah, they’re Black.

And I feel sometimes like the rest of us Black people are being judged in light of that. Any time even one Black person makes the news prominently for a crime in this state, I get tense because people almost invariably start look at me harder and more suspiciously. And in a short span of time, three major stories in which four black people and a couple of entire immigrant African populations figure prominently.

Oh, joy!

Partly, I sense the judgmentalism in the comments I see online in response to news articles about these events. But while I realize that those aren’t allMainers, why is it that so often, when I sit down in a restaurant or coffee shop and settle into my “eavesdropping for entertainment” mode as usual, someone starts talking about Rory Holland or Odokara or the “Somali problem” within seconds? And why am I getting more grumpy looks from people after living in my community for six years now?

And no, I don’t mean the Canadian tourists; I’m used to getting weird looks from them every damn summer. I’m talking people who see me in passing on a regular basis.

In African-American culture, many of us are raised to understand that, for right or wrong, our actions will be seen as representative of the entire Black community. My 17-year-old at times tells me this thinking is outdated. But even he has come to realize that  wearing the baggy pants and gym shoes that is so popular with youth is a surefire way to invite trouble from racists and attention from police even though he doesn’t do anything nefarious or suspicious.

So I would urge all of you to please remember that it’s White people who commit the vast majority of crimes around here–and no, aside from having run into Rory Holland in downtown Biddeford from time to time and steering clear of him because I thought he was creepy, too, I don’t know these people. And I certainly shouldn’t be judged based on them.

End of column……

Obviously this piece has a local slant so feel free to google additional information if you really want to know what goes on in Maine. Now it was funny because as the Spousal Unit (aka resident white guy in my house) and I were discussing how I should proceed with my column, we got news of this story. Seems Skip Gates, a well known Black scholar and Harvard faculty member was arrested for breaking into his own house. Now having read the police report it appears Gates forgot the rules of Blackness in America…when dealing with the police, they don’t give a damn who the fuck you are, and you can best believe Barack Obama in a few years when he is out of office if his ass ever gets caught without Secret Service detail and the local police think he is suspicious, he too could get locked up.

If you think I am tripping as the young folks used to say, well you are asleep at the switch. There may be a few times when Black folks cry race when its something else but too many times race is the issue, it never stops being an issue.  Sadly too many well meaning white folks these days point to the fact that we have a Black president as hard evidence that racism is mostly dead. Look, truth is Obama won because the economy sucked and folks realized that with McCain and Palin we would really big screwed…when it comes to folks and their money, they will do what advances their best interest and McCain was not in most folks best interest. You think the economy is screwed now? Imagine life under the maverick duo? I know…nasty thought!

Instead we have to look at ways to get around issues of race and not let it be an issue but that still does not stop us from having days when we shake our heads and go damn!  As for me, well I am gonna do some soul searching and figure why oh why I get so bothered by race..maybe its because every time my son leaves the house there is a part of me that prays and wants to tell him no don’t go. Maybe its because I hear the stories of abuse that Black and biracial kids put up from their peers here in Maine for the crime of not being white…maybe its because despite the fancy letters that go after my name, I still encounter folks daily who question who I am and whether or not I am qualified to do my job. Just little stuff that keeps me wondering….

Spring is here..

Its been a week of gloom and doom around here but its time to look on the positive side, after all while its easy to sit around and feel sorry for myself, truth is my life could be a whole lot worse. I got an email a few days that brought this home quite clearly, a woman I know but not well was just diagnosed withbreast cancer. Thing is we are similar in age, have kids in the same age range and are walking a similiar path in life with regards to our faith. She is actually one of the ministers at our church and we have talked briefly about my thoughts on going to seminary (I will share more on this later), in some ways she reminds me of myself. Which is why I was stunned to hear she is battling cancer, yet she wrote an amazing letter to our congregation that was filled with such an upbeat spirit that I must admit it made me feel bad about bitching about my life recently.

After all, as far as I know I am in in good health as are my immediate family members. I have a roof over my head, no utilities have been turned off, plenty of food in the house, car is running and the Spousal Unit and I do have jobs. Yeah, we may make less than we used to or less than we think we need but our needs are getting met.

So in the spirit of looking on the bright side, lets talk about Spring in Maine. First off there is no real spring, instead we have Mud Season…see it snows forever in Maine, shit, it may be April here but snowstorms in Maine in April are not unusual..in fact the first year here I was stunned to see so much snow. Thing is when its not snowing during spring, all the snow that has been piled up in the yard since December is only now finally melting thus creating a muddy effect otherwise known as Mud Season. I was just walking in my yard yesterday and my feet just sank into the mud…fun times.

Bright side though is that the birds are chirping and thanks to my neighbors bird feeders, I get to hear plenty of birds, I must admit the birds are far prettier than the flying rats (aka pigeons) I grew up with in Chicago. Of course this year, we have a new addition to the backyard wildlife, the arrival of a possum. A nice ugly looking beast though it seems they are harmless…I do wish it would get the hell out of my yard.

Other signs of spring include the opening of all seasonal businesses such as the local clam shacks and ice cream stands…nothing like homemade ice cream.

Anyway there are plenty of signs that spring is here including the thick rolling fog that prior to Maine, I had only seen in San Francisco though this fog at times is scary. Think a Stephen King novel, and you can imagine the fog here.

So happy Friday, happy Spring and what signs of Spring are you seeing in your area?

Eating local

 

These glorious pics are far our first pickup from our Spring share of our CSA, as regular readers know I strive to eat locally. One of the joys of living in Maine is that I have easy access to farms which means fresh food is easily accessible, yes it costs a tad more but from a taste perspective, nothing beats local eating.

We started buying locally about 6 years ago, I joined our CSA and was immediately hooked, though Mister Spousal Unit is not as sold on the concept as I am of buying local though he admits the local ground beef we get is far tastier than the regular stuff at the store.

Anyway spring is in the air with the arrival of greenhouse greens and other goodies. By the way our first share has eggs which mini me had the pleasure of playing with the lovely hens that laid the eggs when her and Papa did the pickup. In addition we had onions, cabbage, carrots, greenhouse salad greens and beets…oh, can’t forget the beans (red).  Its been great having daily salads again now that I can get real lettuce, the stuff available at the grocery store is tasteless in comparison.

Not much time for a long post since my computer spent most of the day at the computer shop being repaired, apparently she wanted a vacation…catch ya later.