Subscriber Spotlight: Sandra Knauf, Publisher, Writer, Elder Mama Hen, and Wise(ass) Woman at Greenwoman Publishing

There's a free book offer in here, so I wouldn't skip this one. ;)

IN CASE YOU’RE NEW HERE, Jenna’s Side Subscriber Spotlight is a perk for paid subscribers who have something they’d like to share with the class. Think of it as show-and-tell for grownups—except instead of a homemade sock puppet or jar of sea monkeys, it’s your business, project, purpose, or genius idea. Upgrade today and get yourself on the list!

When I received Sandra’s Subscriber Spotlight survey responses, the subject of my email reply was DID WE JUST BECOME BFFS? You meet a handful of people in life that you instantly feel like you could be get-kicked-out-of-funerals-for-laughing friends. This gal checked that box with a fat red metaphorical Sharpie.

Sandra describes herself as “almost pathologically camera-shy” and has been told she has the sense of humor of a 14-year-old boy. (Apparently, that’s right up my alley!) I’d describe her as warm, genuine, generous, funny, free-spirited, and a delightful mix of salty and spiritual. Sandra wanted it known that she filled out this questionnaire with her “daughter/co-conspirator/right-hand woman” Zora Knauf, who writes for the Greenwoman Substack under the name Zen Aster. I’m confident you will enjoy their combined comedic wisdom as much as I did.

The dynamic duo, Sandra and Zora.

WHO EVEN ARE YOU?

I’m still figuring that out, Jenna…

I spend my days trying not to freak out about the future and working hard to find love and laughter (thank God for dumbasses like Katy Perry and “Meghan, Duchess of Sussex”). My dollars mostly go to bills *sigh*, but when I do splurge, it’s on books, pet rocks, rescue plants, recycled treasures, Amish eggs, and grass-fed beef from a farmer who knows our dog’s name.

In my downtime, I’m happily eccentric AF and cottontail-deep in rabbit holes. Current obsession: narcissism. Like every other American with a Wi-Fi connection and unresolved childhood wounds, I’m trying to figure out where I fit in the empath/narcissist saga.

My number one joy is my grandson, Faolán—“little wolf”—six months old, who already has the gift of gab. His vocabulary so far includes "gaga" and "googoo," plus growling noises and “mmmm mmmm (good)” every time he breastfeeds like he’s devouring a Michelin-star meal. He also farts like a frat boy. Hence, the nickname “Andy 2.0,” after my tragically gassy husband of 40-plus years.

What makes me spit nails? Greed. Gaslighting. And the jackasses trying to poison our food, minds, and air—please board the Bezos Dildo Rocket and don’t come back.

PITCH THE [BLEEP] OUT OF ME.

I’m on a mission to reconnect people with Nature, because the further we drift from it, the sicker we become—in body, mind, and soul. I do that through stories that smack you with truth and tenderness all at once. My latest project? Republishing the most criminally overlooked American biography I’ve ever read on George Washington Carver. Regenerative ag genius, spiritual mystic, artist, humanitarian—this man should be on every classroom wall and farmer’s shelf. It took me 25 years to get the rights. It’s finally here. (The pub date is listed as 2016, which is when I first attempted to republish it, but Amazon made me jump through hoops until 2023 before it was actually out in the world.)

On Substack, I lead a scrappy, heartfelt team: Zora Knauf (aka Zen Aster) brings the heat with biting, hilarious (dare I say, a little unhinged) rant-style pieces on women’s health and relationships. Naomi Perkins brings the sweet. She’s a wise and tender mama (the kind we all wish we had), sharing homemaking tips, organic recipes, and soulful reflections on motherhood. Dan Murphy brings the peat. He’s a botanical curator whose obsession with plants blends science and soul, grounding us in the wisdom of the natural world.

I also wrote a memoir, Please Don’t Piss on the Petunias, a story about raising kids, crops, and critters in the city while transforming from die-hard Democrat to fiercely independent woman with a sharp trowel and an even sharper mind.

Why support us? Because this work is real, rooted, and radically human. Subscribe. Buy the books. Share the stories.

If this isn’t the cutest book cover ever, I’m not a hot-headed fake blonde.

GIVE US SOME DIRT.

Fine. Here’s the compost. My daughter Zora and I make wildly inappropriate jokes about her baby, Faolán. When he watches us lift weights from his baby swing, totally mesmerized, we giggle and say it must be an Irish man thing: he loves to watch women work. He was born not breathing, with an Apgar score of 1, and spent his first week in the NICU. It was hell. But he’s thriving now—sunny, smart, eats like a champ, and crushes his baby milestones.

Humor has been our way of healing. Real, raw, sometimes dark as a European power blackout. It’s what saved us. When he does something especially goofy, Zora will laugh and say, “He’s retarded.” Not because we don’t know better—but because we do. Because he wasn’t supposed to be okay. And now he’s so much more than okay. And because sometimes, surviving trauma means reclaiming language and laughing at what once held fear.

Also, Zora middle-named her son Alexander. Her Irish husband got his way with “Faolán” because he didn’t want his son named after Alex Jones. (Yeah, the Infowars guy.) Definitely not something she'd mention in a job interview.

NOW YOU GET TO BRAG!

Although Nature is my “thing,” I’ve been known to sling a smartass comment—or ten. Over the years, I’ve written plenty of pieces that walk the line between wit and wisdom, and my memoir, Please Don’t Piss on the Petunias, has been called hilarious more than once—sometimes even by people who weren’t related to me. Looking back, I think I’ve gotten more joy out of making people laugh than just about anything else in my career. (Motherhood still wins. Nothing tops that.)

What’s even sweeter? One of my rotten apples didn’t fall far from the smart-assery tree. Zora (as Zen Aster) writes with a sharp tongue and a fearless sense of humor that blows me away. Watching her wield the pen as sword (and sometimes as flamethrower) is one of my greatest joys as a mother and a writer. There’s nothing quite like the student outdoing the teacher—except getting a front-row seat when she does.

WHAT’S A HILL YOU’D DIE ON?

Even though I’m post-menopausal, I still feel a visceral rage when I see men claiming womanhood like it’s a costume. Blood may no longer come out of my “you know what,” but it damn sure boils in my veins. And what really gets me? The women—no, the spineless, clueless enablers—who cheer this on like it’s some noble cause. I want to grab them by the p-word and scream: Did any of it mean anything to you? The decades of menses, the gut-wrenching cramps (I used to say it felt like someone was grating my uterus on a cheese grater), childbirth, tittie pain, mood swings, cellulite, the fiery hell that is menopause (and these are just the physical things)—did it all mean nothing?

Being a woman isn’t a “vibe” or a “feeling.” It’s blood, bone, biology, and spirit. It’s the sacred, painful, powerful work of becoming. And to see that erased, mocked, or mansplained with lipstick and hashtags? That’s not progress. That’s blasphemy—against God/Nature.

GIVE US SOMETHING GOOD.

Here’s something from Mikki Willis—truth-slinging blue-eyed silver fox—straight from his latest film about the Mennonites in West Texas who are battling measles and, many believe, have been targeted by the same evil that brought COVID:

“A people who do not need the system are a threat to those who seek to control. Those who grow their own food cannot be starved. Those who heal themselves cannot be kept sick. Those who hold fast to their morals cannot be led astray. And so they endure the whispers, the scrutiny, the pressure to conform. But they do not bend. They persevere. Quietly. Be witness to what is possible for those who have not forgotten who they are. A living proof that the old ways still hold power. And that those who honor them will once again lead the way.” —Mikki Willis

WHY DO YOU SUPPORT JENNA’S SIDE?

Because laughter HEALS, Jenna, and we are in dire need of that sweet medicine. Because your lady balls are enormous, beautiful one. Because the state of female comedy in the U.S. of A. has been at a low for many years now and your work shows us that where there is laughter, there is hope. Mwah!

WHAT IF WE WANT MORE?

• Check out the story behind the George Washington Carver book/obsession here.

• Get to know “Zen Aster” with a hilarious essay that starts, “Rambling down I-40 at 90 miles per hour in my hooker-red Dodge Challenger…” (NOTE: The Greenwoman Substack subscription rate is only $30/year and they post at least once per week.)

• Guess who had a backyard chicken coop way before it was cool?

Sandra has made Please Don’t Piss on the Petunias FREE on Kindle just for Jenna’s Side subscribers through this Saturday. Grab your copy today (and don’t forget to leave a glowing review after you read it—it’s the least you can do). And then SHARE THE HELL out of this post. Let’s make the Sandra Knauf Fan Club go viral. :)