Mountains to Mitten Part II: Hi...Bye!

Now you see her, now you don't!

The next few weeks are a blur.

On the 21st, my mother and I go to a small Solstice gathering in Ann Arbor. I don't really vibe with the crowd and the alienation puts me in a mood for a bit, but Lori makes it all worth it. She led a workshop on her practice of the 5-Rhythms dances  founded by Gabrielle Roth (1941-2012)

In all my time with Lori, I had never been led through one of these routines - her daily life-nectar and foundation of her spiritual practice - so I was excited to finally partake. Also, since being in Packwood, my dancing opportunities had been limited to synchronized sing-alongs of The Fox with Mary and meager attempts to get in a few to-and-frows in the bar before my space would be infringed upon and I would just cease all-together. By the end of the hour - one full of swooping and spinning wildly across the room, uninterrupted - I had tears forming in in the corner of my eyes as I realized how much I had needed that freeing space of self-expression. An opening to the light from dark confinement, to keep it solstice-y.

The weather is harsh that day and we cancel our outdoor portion of our celebration to cash in on a relaxing evening at home. And then the moving around starts all over again in the morning...

I am off bright and early the next day to whisk up my friend George for a Grand Rapids excursion.

Grand Rapids is becoming a cool cat.

Just around the time I left, it decided to get even cooler with a massive Downtown outdoor/indoor market featuring Michigan-made everything. Learning about it during a moment of nostalgia 2,500 miles away from home was kind of a big jealousy-inducing slap in the face. So it was a juicy cherry on the top of our Grand Rapids Sunday.

Everything is tantilizingly taunting, leaving me to battle the inducing shopper's fever. It is the holidays, after all. I snap out of it (mostly) - gourmet tea satchels and Olive Oils infused with everything short of baby's bottom are not my gift-giving style. However I do end up buckling when we are roped into trying over half a dozen sophisticated, alcohol-infused jam flavors. We settle for Barrel-aged whisky Apple Butter and Jalepeno Raspberry. A contribution to Christmas Brunch, right? I have the (pricey) Barrel-aged Whisky Maple Syrup bookmarked for a future splurge.

When we have had our fill, we head over to my friend Lauren's where she is once again in the midst of being Wonder Woman. Battling a terribly mysterious case of ills, she has not only insisted on keeping the Putluck a go, but has tasked herself with tearing down every room of her house to re-paint it. She is in the middle of a purple sea when we arrive. George and I make ourselves useful with cleaning projects before commandeering the kitchen to cook our evening contribution.

The eating commences late but the place is transformed, with no trace of having been a construction zone a few hours earlier. Both familiar and new faces, amazing food and a bonus holiday play conjured up by Kayan, Imani and a few of their little friends.  On full bellies and sleepy eyes, we finish with a Rap encore by Kayan and some budding guitar talent.

Raw Cranberry Carrot "cake"

Imani lookin' stylish