Month: August 2002

  • This is not about sex.


    This is about gender, but I’ll try to squeeze in a little bit of sex to keep it interesting.  When last I blogged about my memoirs, I told some of the ways in which I’ve changed through my experiences.  Prison was a big transformative experience for me, and not in any sense even close to the sort of “rehabilitation” corrections wonks were talking about thirty some years ago.  It did change my criminal activity, made me more selective and cautious about my crimes.  But mostly it changed the way I relate to other women.


    I had no sisters and no close female connections in infancy.  My mother was in the hospital and my father cared for me with the help of a number of neighbors and family members.  He was the only constant, my primary caregiver.  When my mother came home, she was either in bed or in her rocking chair until I was three.


    Even after she got on her feet, she’d be in the kitchen while I was either in the yard alone or with my father in his garage workshop.  He collected small tools for me and modified a few others to fit my hands.  Besides wrenches and screwdrivers, he taught me to use a lathe, drill press, and grinders for metal work, and saws, planes, and various power tools for wood work.  I sat on his lap and learned to drive before I could walk.


     .


     .


    The woman who cared for me the most had two boys whose ages bracketed mine.  Donald and Leroy were my first playmates.  The crowd of six or seven kids always playing in the cul de sac in front of their house was all boys, except for me.  I was the tomboy.  I’ve mentioned some about the effect that label, “cute”, had on me.  I suppose the tomboy label had a lot of effect, too.  It’s hard to say, though, because I earned the label through natural inclination.  For many reasons I resented being a girl.


    There were some older females I admired and respected, but as I grew up I had little besides contempt for most of my peers.  I made a few close girl friends, but none of them was a typical girl.  Tomboys, sluts, cripples, redheads and all sorts of other weirdos and misfits were my friends, along with a lot of men and boys.  Several cousins, uncles and friends of my father’s stepped in as father figures to me when he died.


    Primary among them was Richard… Paul Richard Davis, my father’s aunt Goldie’s illegitimate son who grew up in an adoptive home then ran away and found his birth mother and lived with her the rest of his life.  They were a couple of soulmates, my two favorite relatives, Aunt Goldie and cousin Richard, an incestuous pair.  Then Richard died young and Goldie went on the road in her jeep, camping in Mexico, alone, taking pictures and keeping a journal.  I’d love to find Goldie’s journals.  I spent some great hours looking at pictures and listening to her stories. 


    Richard taught me to see, to “get” what I was looking at.  One afternoon the spring after my father’s death in December, Richard took me up into the Sierra Madre of California.  On a hillside overlooking a sawmill, a rambling, tall, old red slab board building straddling a stream at the bottom of the valley, he showed me how to observe.  We started with flowers.  He had me pick them, one at a time.  He told me the name of each, and pointed out the unique features that marked each species:  the golden petals of California poppies and the blue-violet hoods of Aconitum.  Then he focused on the sawmill, and sketched it, teaching me perspective and some basic principles of spatial and physical science.


    It wasn’t until I was ten or eleven that I spent any appreciable time in a kitchen with a woman or women, and then it was the kitchen attached to the beer joint where my mother sometimes went for dinner when she closed down the sundry/soda shop.  While she unwound and played shuffleboard in the bar, I learned the fine art of short order cuisine in back with the owner/bartender’s wife, cooking Mama’s burger and my grilled cheese.  At home, if I was in the kitchen, my mother was elsewhere, getting some other work done or resting.


    Kids noticed my masculine attitudes and skills.  They started calling me hermaphrodite in third grade, about the time they learned the word.  Well, what they called me was, “morphodight”, but I knew what they meant.  Being both Hermes and Aphrodite held some appeal for me, in a mythic sense, and I started coming back when they needled me, with, “Yes, I’m half male and half female.  My father was a man and my mother was a woman.”


    I had scant regard for womanly women who kept their aprons spotless, each hair in place and mind in neutral.  My concept of what a manly man was came from Roy Rogers and Flash Gordon… and my father, of course.  By the time my contemporaries were one by one convincing their parents to let them go out on dates, I’d been dating to movies since I was eleven and at thirteen would go out with my boyfriend to a movie and to park and neck until 10:00 on Saturday night.


    After he took me home, I’d watch the late news with my mother.  When she went to sleep, I’d sneak out and go on the Sunday morning paper run with three or four other boys.  At plenty of biker parties later on, I’d end up in the garage with the guys, taking some engine apart or sculpting in Bondo while the women twittered and chattered and puttered and primped in the house.  On trips to the various farms, ranches and orange groves in the family, I’d be out on a tractor or hosing down the hog sheds.


    Then, I got locked up for about fifteen months with up to sixty-three other women at a time, probably totalling more than a hundred women over that time as they circulated in and out.  The only time during those months that a man was close enough to smell, he was on the outside fixing some lights, and his scent blew in through the window.  Mmmmm… but I digress.


    I learned to speak their language.  At first, it was somewhat of an anthropology experiment, a lot like learning to fit in with the bikers.  And to be completely honest, I never did really learn to relate with the girliest of the girls.  The femmes of the monogamous lesbian pairs tended to find me as alien as I found them to be.  We just didn’t click.  Some of them seemed to view me as a threat, a rival for their daddies’ attentions, because among the real friends I made in there were a few of the butches.


    They had no cause for concern, though.  Their butches were my buddies, but I would never have become a femme, nor a butch neither for that matter, no matter how long I was locked up.  Just as on the streets, neither of the orthodox gender roles fit me.  The nearest I got to the sex scene in OWCC was as a lookout for my buddy across the hall and her lady a few times.


    I found a partner finally, shortly before my release.  Suzy Creamcheez came in and we had enough time to get to know each other and agree that we turned each other on and would neither of us want to play mama or papa but would both just like to play house.  We had a few conversations in the yard, under the eyes of some live matrons there, CC through video, and two of the guard towers of the men’s joint next door.


    No physical contact was the rule.  It was enforced by bullhorn from the guard towers usually.  The male guards watched us a lot more closely than the matrons did.  They schmoozed in their chairs by the sally port door while we recreated in the yard, but the guys next door kept an eye on us.  When one of them spotted us touching each other, it was either lockdown or the hole, loss of privileges, and loss of good time.


    Suzy and I had a few moments to touch in the chow line, lots of shared meals and croquet games and fun conversations and the breathless moments of unslaked passion, but as we lived at opposite ends of the building and had no allies in admin or the inmate ingroup, we never got together.  *sigh*  But that romantic interlude was mere weeks at the end of my time there.  All my other friends in there were in the straight segment of the population.


    When we got together to talk, the topic was often men.  Men were always involved in our crime stories.  We were often there as accomplices to our men’s crimes.  Many of us were there because of betrayals by men who ended up getting away with the crimes we went to jail for.  The consensus among my sisters inside was that this was precisely what happened to me.


    The story can be twisted, spun that way.  Until speed chemist Steve turned me on and wholesale dealer Hulk taught me how to hit up, I was a part-time pill popper.  The raid on our house was primarily aiming to get Hulk, but he slipped the net.  By paying a lawyer and leaving me to get a court-appointed attorney, he got off.  He was out there on the streets and I was locked up.  What a sleazy guy!  I said it wasn’t like that.  They said I was naive.  In the way the institutional grapevine works, that conversation got around.


    After a while, through one of the women, a butch with a femme in the little joint and a husband in the big house next door, the story started making the rounds in the men’s prison, too.  Married inmates were allowed a face to face visit every Saturday morning.  A small group of women would be escorted out the gate, around the base of the massive wall to the front door and through the visitor routine for an hour’s visit.  The story that got passed into the men’s grapevine was that Hulk had let me take his fall for him, an offense only slightly less heinous than baby raping in that paradigm.


    After I had been there about three months, Hulk got arrested again.  This time it was for downers, a wholesale quantity of reds.  He got ten years on that, and before long was on the other side of that big gray wall from me.



    We got the paperwork through after a few weeks and were allowed our first visit.  There was some tension in the little group of men as they walked into the visiting room where the women were waiting.  Hulk asked me, with some intensity, how the story had gotten around that I’d taken his fall for him.  I assured him that I had not told the story that way and would tell my friend the polyamorous bisexual blonde butch bitch to tell her husband the other bitch that that wasn’t the way it happened.  I told her, she told him, and it took the pressure off of Hulk.


    The rest of my time at OWCC had that added weekly bright spot, when I was actually outside the fence for a minute or two, and got to hug my honey briefly and sit down across a table with coffee and talk for an hour.  Time flew, but even so, there were some interesting people and intense incidents.  There are more stories to be told.  Later.


    In May, I blogged about the unwritten rules of the game in prison.  If you missed it, or don’t remember, this would be a good time for review.


  • Smut Fighters: We Have Rights Too


    RANT ALERT!


    Okay, maybe they’re not serious.  Let’s grant them that as a possibility.  Maybe they are doing this as a publicity stunt, or to back someone’s political campaign.  If not, then the devotees of Mrs. Grundy are simply stupid.


    All right–I’ll cut them a bit more slack.  Maybe “stupid” wasn’t accurate.  Perhaps it’s only ignorance.  That must be it.  Somehow, their elementary school education failed to get across that the first amendment does not protect  the “right” to plagiarize someone else’s work.


    Naah–I was right the first time.  They’re stupid.


  • Paracelsus


    “News” stories about Paracelsus are few and far between, but this one came up on my newsfeed today.  It’s from the Fortean Times.  The following excerpt, I think, states one of the flaws in modern science:



    He may have been a good physician, but his philosophy makes it impossible for Paracelsus to be accepted as a scientist in the modern sense. A seer and mystic, he believed that all knowledge was accessible because all objects in the Universe were represented within the human mind. Everything in the macrocosm that surrounds us is mirrored in the microcosm of the mind, so by searching in the mind all secrets of the Universe can be discovered.


    The people on this planet spend too much time and energy seeking outwardly for what lies within.

  • CNN.com – Hope rests on rich-poor alliance – August 29, 2002


    Just the headline of this story is a most profoundly true statement.  But I was taking too global a view there.  In the narrower focus of the story, where “hope” lies is not so obvious.


    I’m recovering today from a town trip yesterday, and a relatively easy trip, only to the edge of Wasilla, no supermarkets or fast food joints, malls.  We went to the garden store, the feed store and then back to the gas station and library.  For me the highlight of the trip was on the way back, through the construction zone at low speed enjoying an ice cream cone and root beer.


    I think I’ll be back into the memoirs soon, and meanwhile if you want colorful stories about odd people, go to Kabuki‘s blogs about the people she met in the mental hospital.

  • See, I told you, “cute kid”, if you like fat babies.  I tried
    to post this picture with the previous blog, but xanga wasn’t having it
    yesterday.  [a note on the pic:  absence of flowers says this
    was taken in the winter, either late '46 or early '47; the
    greenery behind me was a mass of red geraniums (Pelargonium spp.) that
    covered the fence on the west side of our yard.  They are
    memorable for me because of an incident the first time I planted 
    my own garden.  I was very young, not yet in
    school.  My parents gave me a packet of seeds,
    "bachelor buttons", the flowers I liked best at the time.  I
    carefully spaded and raked a small area and sowed the seeds.  Then
    I picked up a stick off the geraniums and poked it in the ground with
    the seed packet on top to mark my little flower garden.  Maybe
    they were old seeds.  None came up, but the geranium stick took
    root and sprouted.  There and then I got my reputation for a
    green thumb.]

    I didn’t have a topic to blog about today until I read chastityrose‘s
    comment.  She hopes I “have or will find my purpose and great
    joy.”  One of my great joys in life has been finding a series of
    purposes and achieving each one.  The current driving purpose for
    me is to finish my memoirs, to complete telling the stories of my
    various purposes and their joyous fulfillment. 

    In my early years, my purpose was to survive and make liars of the
    doctors who said I would not live to grow up.  Along the way, as
    God told me to do, I learned as much as I could.  When my
    first daughter, Marie, was born, I felt I’d “grown up.”  Now, I
    feel that true maturity didn’t come until I had lived twice that many
    years and chanced upon the therapy group that enabled me to begin
    taking responsibility for my life.

    Along the way, I formed the purpose to work in some healing
    profession.  My first choice would have been to be a medical
    doctor, since I had so much contact with them at a young age. 
    After encountering gender bias and accepting its limitations, I decided
    to be a nurse.  I got far enough into that profession to realize
    that medical science wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and that most
    of its practitioners were less interested in healing than in getting
    paid for trying to heal using a flawed set of tools and
    techniques.  By then, psychology had caught my interest.

    Some intensive study and a brief period of work in the counseling
    field revealed some weaknesses in the established forms of that
    profession as well.  A set of professional “ethics” a lot less
    ethical than I thought was good for the clients tended to sour me on
    that field.  I discovered around that time that the avocational
    “work” I’d been doing through psychic readings was more effective for
    helping people than conventional counseling was.  Thus began about
    a quarter of a century of professional practice as a psychic counselor
    that has brought me both joy and frustration. 

    I learned many things from the readings I did over those
    years.  I can’t begin to enumerate them all here now.  The
    cosmic wisdom I channeled for others was often relevant to me as
    well.  Sometimes the clients didn’t follow the advice, but I
    did.  Perhaps the most joyous realization for me from that time
    was that of personal responsibility for healing and growth.  Even
    when (or especially when) the client was turning the responsibility
    over to me, expecting me to wave a magic wand and make their lives
    wonderful, that task remained theirs to do.  Over and over, I’ve
    told people, “you can abrogate, but you can’t abdicate responsibility
    for your own life.”   Now if I’m asked for a reading, I give
    it.  If the client chooses not to accept and act on the advice, so
    be it.

    So, Lisa, rest assured that this life of mine has its share of both
    purpose and joy.  I think it’s interesting that both of those
    things you wished for me are the very things that most fill my
    life.  I’ve never been one to go along without purpose.  Even
    fun pastimes need a purpose, for this Virgoan soul to enjoy them. 
    It wasn’t until Michael Big Bear prescribed a daily play time for the
    good of my spirit, that I could allow myself such “purposeless”
    activity.  Even before I started playing for its therapeutic
    effect (that was almost nine years ago), each of the “jobs” I had
    chosen for myself:  psychic, gardener, iconoclast, artisan in
    stone and metal, parent, writer… was chosen because I loved the
    “work”.  In a life where there is no clear line between work and
    play, all is joy.

    P.S.  My new scanner is GREAT!

  • Back in April, Yahoo made one of their formerly free services, email forwarding, into a “premium” paid service.  I didn’t use that service, but Greyfox did.  If they sent him any notice of the change, he didn’t notice it.  The result was four months of email accumulated in his box.  Then I forwarded something to him and it bounced, making me aware, finally, of the situation.


    I had been wondering why he never responded to anything I sent him, even when I put him down for a CC of the email I sent his sister explaining why I want to divorce him.  I figured it was only because of his usual reticence.  Well, he wasn’t reticent about thanking me for dealing with four months worth of emails for him yesterday.


    Last night I resigned myself to writing using a text editor instead of a word processor:


    I’ve been learning from writing my memoirs.  One of the most important discoveries I’ve made concerns how I have changed over the course of the these years.  Except for brief allusions to childhood, the story I’ve been telling here began with my marriage when I was fourteen years old.  I have been relating anecdotes, sharing experiences, and revealing some of my feelings about things that happened.  Now I want to describe the person who lived that life, made the choices that led to the events I’ve been reporting.



    Oddly, though all along it has been perfectly natural to write in first person, now I find myself beginning to think about my younger self as “she”, and not “I”.  I think this illustrates how much that young woman has had to change to become the old woman I am now.  Just then, I typed, “old”, and then stopped to think about it.  Am I old now?  I was old before my time, wise beyond my years some people said.  I’d be more inclined to dispute that, than to deny that I am now old.  I’ve no idea how much older I’ll get, nor if I might some day read those words and think how relatively young I was when I wrote them.  If that happens, it will be ironic, eh?



    I was a cute kid.  Being bright and articulate did not detract from the cuteness in the earliest years.  Adults generally responded to me with approval.  When my father took me on his shoulders one day before I was a year old and carried me the few blocks down Fox Avenue and across the bridge to Food Machinery Corp., where he worked, the work almost came to a stop.  My mother had a fit when he brought me home with my frilly white dress and pink ribbons smudged with carbon and grease.  Every welder, cutter, grinder and press operator in the place had held me up and grinned into my laughing face.  The overhead crane operator had set me on his lap and given me a ride across the enormous shop.  I remember the levers and knobs of the crane, the sparks flying from grinders, the flare of the welders, as if it were days and not decades ago.  I remember being cute.



    Much of our self-concept, once we start thinking of ourselves as separate individuals, is based on feedback we get from others.  They told me I was cute, smart, clever.  They applauded.  I got my first standing ovation at age three, after I recited “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas”, at a Teamster’s Union Christmas party.  I had a pretty good public image.



    At home and among my playmates, I didn’t rate so highly.  My rages and tantrums have always been hard on my closest relationships.  My best friend Donald, when we were preschoolers playing in a chair-and-blanket tent, accidentally kicked me in the face and I bit his toe hard enough to draw blood.  Another time, in a struggle over a pail in the sandbox, I whacked him in the head with the toy shovel, and it required stitches.



    I have been a sarcastic smartass since I started to talk.  Okay, I exaggerate… have always done that, too.  I was early to talk, slow to walk.  I took my first independent step on my second birthday, in pursuit of a neighbor kid who was playing with one of MY new toys.  By that time I was already using complete sentences.  Most of them ended with question marks.  I recall my mother slapping me, sticking soap in my mouth, shaking me, all on account of things I said to her.  I’m going to have to work on recalling just what I said that pushed her buttons so.  My father had a very different set of buttons.  He could laugh and call me a smartaleck if I wised off to him.  But he would sometimes groan at the questions I asked.  It became too much for him.



    He had taught me to read by the time I was three, and then he took me to the library and got me my first library card.  After that if the questions went beyond his capacity to answer, he’d make a note of it and on our next trip to the library we’d look it up.  Later, I took the notes.  There were not many of my questions he couldn’t answer.  Often, they involved things like gravity or time, and what we found at the library didn’t really answer them.  Questions and smartaleck remarks he could deal with.



    What he would not tolerate were lies.  I had lied about something, to my mother, the day before he died.  She had told him when he got home and we made the obligatory trip to the basement for the over-his-knee spanking with the leather razor strop.  He shed almost as many tears over it as I did, but I was mad at him for it anyway.  Still enraged over the whipping the next morning when he had a heart attack and left in an ambulance, I wished him dead.  My own unbridled anger did me in that time.  Life turned to hell, immediately.  And it was all my fault.  Of course, I was afraid to tell anyone.  Twenty-three years later I’d tell my therapy group, but I kept it secret ’til then.



    People have told me I have a sharp tongue.  Between angry invective and sarcastic humor, I have gotten myself beaten up innumerable times by men who couldn’t compete with me in a battle of words. When some of them have tried, I’ve even had the temerity to say, before I turn and walk away, “I won’t engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed man.”  More than one has shown me how mighty fists can bring meek contrition.  I’ve plotted and visualized murdering some of them, but never lost my inhibitions to that degree.  I continue to do my best to avoid doing in my fellow man.



    One of the ways I have changed as I’ve grown with experience, is that I am no longer as provocative as I used to be.  I’m still confrontational, won’t back down on any matter I deem important.  But I’m much mellower and more tolerant, less openly critical of minor imperfections.  As I have grown to tolerate many petty pet peeves that used to irk me and end up with me irking others, I’ve become even more open and emphatic in confronting big issues.  I used to get right in people’s faces with unsolicited advice.  Now I do it from afar, and more rarely.  That there are people who solicit my advice, and the passionate focus I give to answering their questions, make it easy to cut back on the gratuitous picky-pickiness.



    One of my favorite comebacks used to be, “Who cares?”  It’s always delivered with a shrug.  The answer to the question, of course, is that I care deeply.  Nothing that didn’t touch me deeply could elicit that physical and verbal shrug.  I only rarely ever ask who cares anymore, but sometimes I catch myself starting to shrug when something really gets to me.  It’s a useful “tell”, an easy to read signal to look more deeply and acknowledge what I’m feeling.  As I have grown more able to see my own denial, I’ve found that fewer things now have the power to hurt me to the extent that I feel I must deny them.



    I spent much of my life under the influence of fairy tales and soap operas.  I was a drama queen de luxe.  It was make believe, a role I played, but I made myself believe it.  I made it real, until I realized it and made myself become more real.  I used to spend a lot of time and energy rationalizing things, making myself believe that it really was the way I wanted it to be, or at least it would be someday.  Now I know that today is all I have, and I know that I want it to be just the way it is.  By paying attention to what is, I’m better able to deal with the changes and surf the timewave.


  • Update:


    Doug and I spent some time on the roof.  We cleaned the stovepipe from the woodstove, which turned out to be the first priority before we start working on stopping the leaks.  We now know that we don’t have all the materials we need, and I’ve started a shopping list.


    I’m weak as a kitten and trembling with fatigue.  I keep trying NOT to remember how much I used to be able to do before fatigue stopped me.  It’s too damn depressing.  At least I feel mature and responsible.  I feel ‘way TOO mature, and only reluctantly responsible, but I do think I can get the roof done, with lots of help from Doug, before snow flies.

  • I will probably keep blogging, but until I find out if I can fix what’s wrong with my venerable and cranky laptop, I may not be writing memoirs for a while.  I was seriously bummed out last night when I started old Schpeedy up and got “cannot read from drive C” error messages.


    As he is, I can play minesweeper and solitaire, and can use notepad but not my word processor.  I will have to be overflowing with inspiration before I resort to that.  This may require reinstalling some software.  It may mean losing some data.  My next chore is to… I don’t know what is next.  I’m in a bind of a kind I can really do without.  I have plenty to do, none of which I enjoy much or am particularly skilled at.  To make the situation worse, I have no clear sense of which task needs first priority.


    An atavistic urge to blow it all off and waste some time doing things that are a lot more fun, if I indulge it, could delay my making any progress today.  The PS2 is looking unusually inviting.  I still haven’t fixed the roof yet, either.  Sometimes just being an adult is all I can handle.  Being a responsible adult… well, that’s a bit harder, still.


  • Sunny Saturday, here, and not too hot for us.  We’ve had at least one frosty night, as evidenced by a few frost burns on some tender plants.  The morning was cloudy, but since the weather guessers said the chance of precip would diminish throughout the day, Greyfox decided to go to work.


    A new shipment of knives and other stock for his stand was waiting at the post office, in Willow, about as far away as his stand in Talkeetna, but in the other direction.  Before we had Streak Subaru, he would have had to pick up the parcels first and miss a couple of hours of business, and maybe lose his parking spot.  That was before… now things are different.


    Leaving the cats to mind the fort here, Doug and Koji and I took off in Streak.  This time, I remembered to take the camera.  My first stop was at Kashwitna Lake, just to take pictures.  Winter or summer, it is one of my favorite roadside spots.


    We took care of business at the post office and the credit union in Willow, then since Doug wanted a snack and the library wasn’t open yet, we stopped at the new convenience store before heading for the community center and library.


    There’s a lake right behind the library, too.  Koji wanted a drink and almost gave Doug a bath.  He’s mostly husky and they are bred to pull.  He pulls, hard.


    We watched one float plane take off and another one land.  I took some pictures of the one taking off, but I really need a zoom lens for that.   Digital camera with optical zoom is on my want list.


    The drive to Talkeetna was uneventful.  Doug walked Koji to the river and took this shot of the railroad bridge over the Big Su, the Susitna River.


    Then he brought Koji back to me while he found some lunch.  Next it was my turn and I was snagged by the weekend burger, fries and Ice Axe Ale special at the West Rib Pub.  Almost more burger than I could eat, maybe more ale than I should have drunk, it was splendid.  Ice Axe is brewed just for the West Rib by Glacier Brewery.  It is dark and flavorful, made with honey, 9.2% alcohol, and served in a sixteen-ounce glass.


    I’m almost a non-drinker, and it hit me hard.  I dozed in the car a while and then minded Greyfox’s stand while he took a lunch break.  By then I was okay to drive home, and here I am, photos all saved and a few of the best ones cropped and shrunk to manageable size for the web, just for you guys.  Enjoy.


    Now I know what I can do with my leaky old hip boots.  This was hanging outside the office of a river guide service in Talkeetna.

  • Fubars

    healthy whole-grain nutty herb and spice fruit bar cookies

    This is a versatile recipe, which works
    almost as well with one kind of fruit and nut as with various
    combinations of fruits, nuts and seeds.

    Butter and lightly dust with flour a

    large jelly roll pan (approx. 12″ x 18″)

    This yields 24
    bars.  For a smaller batch, use 1/4 amounts of ingredients and a
    9″ x 13″ pan, and reduce baking time to about 25 minutes.

    Preheat oven to 325°.

    Combine dry ingredients:

    4 cups of flour–at least half of the
    flour should be whole wheat to help bars cohere.  The other half
    can be any combination of other flours including, but not limited to,
    soy, rice, amaranth, or alfalfa flour or other herbs (I’d use Cannabis
    unless the cookies are for kids) ground fine and sifted.

    1/2 tsp. salt

    1 Tbsp. baking powder

    2 Tbsp. cinnamon

    1 tsp. cloves

    2 tsp. ginger

    1 tsp. allspice  (or substitute other spices to taste)

    Beat in a large bowl:

    12 large eggs

    2 cups honey

    1 cup melted butter

    2 Tbsp. pure
    vanilla extract (If all you have is imitation vanilla flavor, leave it
    out.  You may substitute lemon, maple or other extract{s} to
    complement and harmonize with your choice of fruits and nuts.)

    Stir dry ingredients into liquids.

    Stir in

    4 cups of dried fruit and

    2 cups of broken
    nut meats, sunflower or pumpkin seeds or wide-shred unsweetened
    cocoanut.  ( I never use peanuts because many people are allergic
    to them and they can harbor aflatoxin.)

    Or stir in fruits, leave out nuts and add them to whipped cream
    for topping.  That’s a great alternative I discovered by accident.

    You may also add, if you wish:

    1 1/2 cups chocolate chips, yogurt chips, or carob chips.

    BUT BEFORE YOU BEGIN,

    choose your fruits
    and nuts.  These are fruit bars, nutty fruit bars.  The above
    recipe is a rather heavy, uninteresting cake by itself, but it does an
    excellent job of holding fruit and nuts together.

    Sun-dried
    wildforaged or homegrown fruits, nuts, grains, herbs, etc., are best of
    course.  If it comes from a store, two dried fruits I always
    include for both flavor and economy are

    dates and pineapple.  Extruded dates cost lots less and are less likely to have pits.

    They are enough, by themselves, or you can add:

    mango, papaya or other tropical fruit or

    apples, peaches, pears, nectarines and/or
    raisins, figs, prunes, berries… just don’t try those crisp “banana
    chips” that are fried and glazed. *shudder*

    The easy way to deal with the fruit/nut issue is by using gorp or trail mix.  My own favorite combination is:

    pineapple and dates for their sweetness

    peaches, nectarines, cranberries and apples for their flavors

    pecans and pumpkin seeds for flavor and nutrition

    Ghirardelli’s large dark bittersweet chocolate chips for no reason at all.

    Bake at 325° for about 45 minutes or until the center springs back from a light touch.