Sitting in the waiting room of the doctor’s office doesn’t feel the same as it used to. Next to me, a silver haired woman is letting out exaggerated winces and moans. I finally look up and meet her eye. She looks at me as if I could never understand the level of agony she’s experiencing. I think, “Trust me lady, I’ve been sharing this room with you for five minutes, I’m beginning to understand how miserable it must be to live with you, let alone BE you.”

I don’t fit in here. The people I see walking in and out of the office are elderly. They are graying and wrinkly, they are old. I am only 30 and look young for my age. I am not about to wince and moan, though my hands and feet are throbbing in pain. I’m not looking for the pity of anyone in this room, this building, or this planet. Maybe someday I will be. But for now, I’m focused on today.

At one point in my waiting, a young woman enters the office and makes her way to reception. She is a fit, twenty-something, wearing yoga pants, Uggs and a chunky scarf. A wave of ease rushes over me, I wait with my eyes trained on her, hoping to catch her eye and give a knowing glance. Finally, someone that I can relate to.

“I have a 2:30 appointment,” she says and gives the receptionist her name. The receptionist looks over her computer, asking more questions, seeming confused.

“Oh, you’re looking for physical therapy, sweety,” she says. “That’s just down the hall to the left.”

I quickly drop my eyes, pretending to check my Iphone. Maybe she’ll think I’m waiting for my grandma.

The truth is that I’m at the Arthritis Center for me, not for my grandma or even my mom. For me. I can make all the uncomfortable jokes I want but this is real. Rheumatoid Arthritis doesn’t care if I’m thinking about the business I want to start, the bike ride to work this afternoon or my next magazine deadline. I guess it decided to be part of all these things and the selfish bastard doesn’t realize that I’m not interested in sharing.

It’s amazing how one day you have nothing and the next day you have a disease. I personally like to ease into things, not just jump without looking. I wish me and RA could’ve had a better courting period like one does while dating. Try each other out, introduce one another to our friends and family over time. I could say things like, “We’re just getting to know each other, nothing too serious yet.” But I didn’t get to choose RA, it chose me.

This isn’t my disease. Yet today, in a pre-massage interview, the LMT and I had to discuss my “disease” after I checked the box next to arthritis on the health worksheet. I felt like saying, “Don’t pay any attention to that, it’s a just a casual thing, purely physical. I’m sure it will be over once the lust wears off.” She probably wouldn’t have seen the humor in it. But, I guess me and RA are in a honeymoon phase that isn’t visible to the outside world. This relationship is a give and take. I give and the RA takes. Well, I plan to give RA hell for as long as I have it in me

This honeymoon (like most others….eehhemm) comes with baggage. Ok, luggage. And, it’s not the cute Louis Vuitton kind that you can carry a chihuahua in. It’s the oversized tapestry-covered kind, with rickity wheels and busting seams. I do my best not to cry each morning as I watch my collection of patented, peep-toed and platformed high heels collecting dust on the top shelf of my closet. I hold in my frustration while struggling with a necklace clasp or taking the lid off a tube of chapstick. Funny, how the little things become daily reminders. I can do a 90 minute yoga class with ease, but ask me to open the peanut butter before 9 am and we’ll have issues. My symptoms improve as the day moves on and by about two, I’m feeling pretty good. I imagine, as we get to know each other better, we’ll figure out how we’re going to live together in harmony (and heels).

If I’m forced to carry this oversized tapestry luggage with me for the rest of my life, I’ll be damed if I’m going to fill it with anything other than exactly what I want. If I want to go wine tasting, marathon running and world traveling, then damn it, I’m going to do it! OK!? Who’s with me? (This is where I tell RA “shut the F up, you’re not invited”).

This disease means nothing and it means everything. The diagnosis was so natural and matter of fact, as if to say, “Yes, your hair is red.” I took the diagnosis in the same manner it was delivered. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’m not going to die from this. There are far worse thing that I could be handed. There are people who would lay down to this disease. I guess I’m just not one of them. Yes, I’m going to have bad days, bad weeks, bad months, maybe even bad years. But I will address those when they are here and do my best during the good days to make sure the bad are few and far between.

The biggest commitment I’ve made to RA, is beginning a prescription of Plaquenil, an antimalarial used to treat RA. This is one of the mildest treatments for RA and was described to me as the “anti-steroid” treatment, which I like. When prescribed this medication, I asked the doctor how long I would need to take it. The word she used was “indefinitely.” And my arranged marriage began, just like that, two pills a day, every day. Yoga, running and riding my bike are my other medicine. The worst thing you can do for a RA is to sit still, so the more I move the better I feel. That’s a disease that I can handle.

I think back to some of our first dates and the little warning signs that I should’ve listened to. Weakness, pain, fatigue…yes, yes and yes. I think back even farther and wonder if some signs were telling me years ago that this was coming. I can think and wonder for hours or I can start addressing the future. I’ll choose the future.

All relationships take work right? And, if you can’t make it work, just get divorced (hahahaha…sorry family, bad joke). Since I imagine I won’t get the chance to have the “it’s not you, it’s me” conversation with my RA, I plan to face this disease just like I would any other challenge. I’m going to make feeling good and living the life I want to live, the focus of each day. Just like I did before my uninvited Rhuemy moved in.

One bit of information came as a surprise to me (maybe everyone else already knew this but just humor me), when you through your biodegradable or compostable food waste into your regular garbage, chances are it will never break down in the manner that one assumes. Landfills create an oxygen-deprived and chemical-laden environment, one that is not conducive to composting.

The basic idea of composting, to someone like me who doesn’t know any better, may seem simple. Save your kitchen scraps that are plant based, put them in a pile or a bin, turn the pile on occasion and voila…you have compost!

Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. The average household doesn’t generate the right mix of materials to successfully create compost. The mix should be 25% green (kitchen scraps, cut grass, etc) and 75% brown (dead leaves, straw, etc). The pile should be kept damp, by watering it about once a week. Damp, but not soaked. The pile should also be turned or fluffed once a week. This mixture and process create the environment needed to break down the items. Sounds like a lot of work, especially when it’s raining. Oh…and the compost pile goes dormant during the cold months. And, if you live in the city, where do you put the darn thing?

So, what’s a well intentioned, composting newby to do? Well, this sounds really gross to me, but all well seasoned, city composters are pointing to worms. That’s right, slimy, yucky worms.

I consulted my two male roommates, who are usually very supportive of my dirt inspired adventures, on the idea of bringing a worm compost system into our house and they looked at me like I’d just said I was going to let a bag of cobras loose in the living room. Apparently they’ll take some convincing.

Worm composting is said to be clean and odor free. There are a variety of pre-made worm composting bins that make it easy to separate the worms from the compost they’ve created and keep them contained in the bin. Worms can compost all the same material that you would put in a regular compost pile. It takes about 1/3 of the time and you don’t have to worry about keeping the correct mix of materials in the bin.

But, do the worms escape? I DON’T KNOW!!! But I haven’t read or heard of any horror stories yet.

So, I’ve ordered a worm bin. Sorry roommates. But, I promise it’s going to be the coolest experience you’ve ever had with worms. Just wait until I get a 10 pound bag of worms delivered via USPS….woohoo!

As a Lakeside resident, Hector is one of nearly 25 homeless men responsible for the care of a community garden that this summer produced over 600 pounds of tomatoes, among other things, to supplement the nearly 1,000 meals served daily at Lakeside shelter.

The USDA began recognizing the idea of community farming around 1993 and using the term Community Supported Agriculture (CSA). The basic idea of a CSA is a group of individuals who pledge to support a farm operation, creating, in a sense, a community farm. In many cases, a farmer will sell shares to the public, in exchange for boxes of farmed products. But, as CSA’s morph to meet the needs of varied income levels, the pledge of support can come in forms other than monetary. Some may donate their time, while others donate supplies. The end result is a shared functioning garden, an improvement of the appearance and environmental impact of the space and an opportunity to improve a community’s access to fresh, local food. These farms, like the one Hector works on in his Cleveland shelter and like many others throughout the country, are proving that through joint community efforts we can achieve a fresh local food system in any urban setting.

Community Farms are accomplishing a variety of things but at the core they are building community relationships where once there may have been none, they are creating a space for education and training, and they are bringing fresh local food directly to people in the city who might normally not have access to it.

It’s easy to look at a man like Hector and find ways in which we are different from or better off than him. But, with the news released by the USDA in November of this year that 14.6% of US residents went hungry in 2008, we shouldn’t ignore that a large number of us share something with Hector, homeless or not.

To hear a number like 14.6% is easy. It sounds small, manageable. As if to say 85.4% of US residents aren’t hungry, therefore we’ve received a “B” on the hunger grading scale. But, unfortunately we aren’t just looking for a passing grade, we are talking about human lives and the ability to sustain ourselves. The USDA survey shows that 17 million households experienced food insecurity, a lack of access to food, at some point in 2008. That is up from 13 million households in 2007. This is not the kind of “B” that you decide you deserve and move on.

A lot of things have changed in the food industry since the day of the Victory Gardens during World War II. When Eleanor Roosevelt called to US residents to plant Victory Gardens in the 1940′s, she was addressing a lack of food in general, asking US citizens to plant gardens because the food supply couldn’t support us. Eleanor hadn’t heard of high fructose corn syrup and didn’t have to contend with genetically modified soy beans. The advances in food modification are making processed foods more accessible and less expensive for families, while organic and fresh foods become more expensive and less attainable. Today we call to urban community farming to not only make fresh, healthy, local food accessible to all but also to educate the community, young and old, about healthier ways of eating and living.

“I believe that Urban Gardening will be the main source of food in the near future because of the rapid changes in the cost of living,” says Dr. James Edward Brown, Professor of Horticulture at Fort Valley University. “From an economic standpoint, Urban Gardening can solve many problems of families who struggle to buy food.”

If Urban Farming is to become our main source of food, as Dr. Edwards states, what will need to do to achieve an urban farming system that can sustain a metropolitan city? And, if we don’t take the steps, does that mean that eventually the resources for fresh food will no longer be there? Change requires action and action is only as strong as the community that supports it.

In a slowly developing neighborhood in Portland, Oregon, work is just beginning on a half-acre of land recently donated to Port City Development Center’s Project Grow. The program is dedicated to providing fair wage employment for adults with disabilities and training in the arts and the earth, according to Project Grow’s co-founder, James Ragsdale. Port City’s first micro-CSA broke ground on two vacant lots behind their existing buildings on N. Williams St in March of 2009. Through the work of Port City’s clients and neighborhood volunteers, they farmed enough food to support three local CSA members during the 2009 growing season.

“Some of the clients grew up on farms,” says Ragsdale. “They bring unique ideas to the process that maybe we hadn’t thought of.” The clients help with all aspects of the farm, from planting seeds to grow starts indoors to buildings fences and chicken coops. Standing in the chicken coop, one of the clients tells me how he assisted in building the new storage shed that they just recently completed. He is an older gentleman with graying hair and a slight build.

“We just need to paint it,” he tells me and James reminds him that they already stained it. “I still think it should be painted,” he leans in a little closer to tell me, grinning.

*article is continued but is left off of the site because it is out for publication

It read:

By 2012, 70% of Americans will be overweight.

My hand shot up as the presenter sped past this statistic.

“What does that mean?” I asked. “70% will be obese or just overweight?” He shifted his weight a bit.

“You know, I’m not sure” he replied.

“Do you know what percentage will be children?” I went on. Again, he shook his head “no”.

This overwhelming feeling came over me just then. I have to do something, I thought to myself. This is too important.

But what can I do? Where do I even start? Yes, I can cook a meal that’s healthy and have a kitchen garden and chickens in my yard. But what am I really doing? And why am I not doing more?

I don’t have the answer yet. But I intend on doing my part to find it and to bring awareness to the people who are actually doing something.

So, I spent today at the Port City Development Center urban farm. A truly joyful and inspiring experience to say the least. Port City is a center for adults with disabilities, a place where they go to work and to learn. As part of this program, they began a CSA and community garden in March of 2009. The $600 fee that is paid to join the CSA goes to paying the wages of the clients who work in the gardens and with the farm animals. The remainder is funded largely by donation. Here a couple photos from my visit today. Can’t wait to go back.

A Foodprint is,  ”our food system’s contribution to greenhouse gas emissions and global climate change through the production, processing, packaging, shipping, storage and disposal of food,” according to the Foodprint USA website.   In a study done by the Pew Center on Global Climate Change, it was found that “globally one-third of all GHG emissions comes from agriculture and land use changes, and that approximately 12% of the total GHG emissions per U.S. household result from growing, packing, preparing and shipping food nationwide,” the website also reports.

Somehow, statistics bring validity and reality to facts that I’ve pushed to the back of my mind. A couple years ago I read a report, Livestock’s Long Shadow, released by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, about the impact that animal agriculture has on climate change and air pollution.  The information was a bit overwhelming but the ideas stuck with me. But, it’s still easy to ignore something though when it’s not staring you in the face everyday.

How do we determine our Foodprint? Unfortunately, I don’t know the answer yet. But through out the country, many local governments are on the push to get “green food resolutions” put into place. The resolutions are still pretty vague and non-binding but at the core the goal is to make fresh local food accessible to all.  They are encouraging local governments to establish climate friendly food policies and encourage urban farms and farmers market. The resolutions will also encourage public awareness campaigns about the health and environmental impact of our food choices.

I’m not sure where this will lead but both Chicago and New York City are in the process of reviewing resolutions. A big push is coming from campaigns by the Farm Sanctuary, a farm-animal protection group. According to Meredith Turner, spokesperson for Farm Sanctuary, Signal Mountain, a small town in Tennessee, is the first town to approve a green food resolution. Awareness never hurts, that’s all I can say.

Check out the Foodprint NYC here.

Here is a list of what to look for. (If your store doesn’t label where the produce is grown, ask someone who works there. It’s good to have a local produce ally!)

Apples
Pears
Cabbage
Kale
Broccoli
Some salad greens
Squash
Brussel sprouts
Carrots
Potatoes
Kiwi berries (see photo courtesy of Hurst’s Berry Farm)
Hazelnuts (they count right?)

If you haven’t tried kiwi berries, please do. They are small, fuzz-free and delicious. Just pop it in your mouth, skin and all. They taste just like a kiwi, minus the hairy layer.

Please don’t shy away from squash. They are very forgiving and work well with both savory and sweet flavors. I like butternut and delicata. Try cutting a butternut squash in half, digging out the seeds and strings and stuffing the center with something tasty. I like diced apples, oats, toasted almonds, cinnamon and agave. Bake the stuffed squash until soft. Or if you prefer savory flavors, try brown rice, onion, garlic, mushrooms and Field Roast sausage. Yum! Another added bonus is they look great piled in a bowl while they wait to become dinner!

Also, if you’re looking ahead to the next growing season and don’t see where or when you’ll fit in a garden. Consider joining a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) farm. Now is the time to reserve your spot. By joining a CSA, you invest in the initial costs of a farm and someone else maintains it. Your reward, you get to share in the bounty through out the growing season. Here is an example in the Portland area.

The fall vegetables are making good progress. This bed is new and a bit of an experiment. With a late start on getting the fall crops in, I used larger starts which were on sale at Garden Fever. The bed and plants went in around the second week of September. With a mild fall, they could hold up through November here in Portland (we are climate zone 6). But, if we get an early frost, chances are I could lose some crops before we can harvest. Good news is, we have been eating the kale for a couple weeks now. It really thrived in this partly sunny spot, who knew?  The bed contains broccoli, cabbage, kale, leeks and onions.

I am in the process of researching a cover for this particular bed. Something to protect it and hopefully trap in some warmth.  I’ve noted that this particular spot gets hit pretty hard when the wind is blowing.

If anything, my first fall garden has been fun and beautiful to look at. The purple cabbage and kale mixed in with the various shades of green from the onions and the variegated kale leaves, it better than any landscape in my opinion. Plus, it gives me a reason to get out there and play around.

What will San Francisco be doing with all that food waste? It will be transported to Organix Annex and turned into compost. The compost will then be sold to area farms and vineyards.

I was recently in San Francisco and one thing that stuck with me was the lack of green space available to residents. There were very few opportunities for urban gardening within the city. At least in comparison to Portland, where I live.

This ordinance, I imagine, is bringing composting to people who would normally not have the space, the means or the purpose for compost. Composting in the city can attract unwanted wildlife and the average kitchen doesn’t usually generate the correct balance of ingredients needed to create good compost.

San Francisco isn’t the first city to put a composting ordinance into place. But, it is the first to require both residential and commercial building owners to comply and the first to be enforcing it with fines.

As a child, my playground was the garden. Experiments and adventures, of the fresh food variety, filled my life like a never ending fruit bowl. I would lay beneath the rows of marionberries for hours, my fingers and lips dyed purple from taste testing. Or spend entire afternoons attempting to eat an ear of corn kernel by kernel. I both initiated and accepted any edible challenge that was presented to me.

Growing up in the country, having a garden made sense. We had space to put in large beds and were part of a culture that nurtured farming. But, I eventually settled in the city, moving between apartments where the outdoor space included concrete balconies and well manicured common lawns. Gardening remained just a memory. Sure, I had a couple house plants that I kept in a constant state of near death but the thought of actually growing so

mething edible hadn’t yet occurred to me. Until one day, while perusing the grocery store, I bought three small plant starts and put a tiny herb garden in my kitchen window. My intentions in buying them were purely aesthetic, “How cute will these guys look in my window?” I thought, grinning at my new found domestic side.

To my surprise, pasta with fresh basil and rosemary red potatoes had never tasted so good. Potted tomato plants on my balcony soon followed. I’m not a gardener. The skills I gained as a child centered mostly around eating. Learning to grow vegetable has been a series of trials and mostly errors. Balcony farming had it’s limitations, but it brought me a lot of joy and a little bit of actual food. I never dreamed, living in the city, gardening would ever provide more than that.

After seeing the lawn-free houses in my neighborhood, I knew I could do more, but how would I find the time or the skill to create something of this magnitude? And after I created it, how would I maintain it?  Oh, and what about the part where I would actually have to talk to and get to know my new neighbors? Talk about overwhelming. Would the woman next door with the shiny blue tensil and abnormally large starfish hanging in her window really embrace me growing raspberries in her front yard? And could my gentle sloping, grassy front lawn actually be transformed into an edible oasis? My mind was racing.

I’ve come to find out that I am not alone in my concerns or desires. With the downturn in the economy and a nutrition crisis staring us in the face, urban farming is becoming an increasingly popular solution. With the limitations of time and space, people are using creativity and resourcefulness to bring fresh food to the city.

In North Portland, Alice Lasher’s front yard spills over with edible items. At her day job, she works at the fire department and is often found teaching and discussing topics related to food security.  At home, she answers her concern for these issues with a local approach.

Her yard speaks directly to my stomach: Asian pears, tomatoes, broccoli, kale, strawberries and so on. Every inch of earth is growing something. She started her personal “Food Not Lawns” endeavor at this house just over two years ago and since has expanded her efforts to include two other garden spaces in her neighbor’s yard.

**continued