Highly Exaggerated Confessions of a Wannabe Farmgirl

Do we ever stop to think where an Oreo comes from? Do they grow on trees? Bushes? Maybe they are a root cookie. Ok, I exaggerate, so what else is new. How about our carrots or asparagus. Where is it grown?  Who grew it?  How about those awful, hard, tasteless, pulpy masses the grocers pass off as tomatoes?  Where did they get those things? And don't even get me started on Wonder bread.  As in, "I wonder what the heck is in that stuff." 

Most of what we consistently and mindlessly pile into our grocery carts week after week barely passes as food. I am tired of it.  I have been for years.  I will spare you the boring details of my decade long attempt at detox.  That is, eliminating as much of the unrecognizable substances that pass as food, and that our society consumes en masse, from our regular diet as possible without causing a) complete family mutiny or b) thrusting my family into the fringe of society, outcast and labeled with catchy titles like health-nuts, granolas or hippies.  Actually I think I could live with all of that, but really, if anyone is going to make fun of my family, it better be me. 

Over the past few years I have become more and more intrigued with the idea of locavorism and self-sustainability. There is plenty of info out there, so I won't go into detail.  It just feels right.  It just sits well with my nature and what I personally value.  No pressure here to believe what I do, just the random thoughts of one blogging chick.  Ok, so that brings me to my latest adventure. Chickens!  Jimi Hendrix and Yolko Ono joined our little flock last week and are a welcome addition. Just cute little fuzzballs at this point, but the prospect of fresh omelets in my future is good. Plus I got to supervise Hunky Hubby building an adorable coop for the little buggers last weekend--tan, muscly arms, power tools, the smell of raw manliness and sawdust in my nose--oops-

As I was saying.  I just feel the need to be connected to my food. To the earth. To my place on it. As part of it. We have detached ourselves from the dirt.  I love dirt.  I love the way it feels between my toes, and smells when I dig in it.  I played in the dirt alot as a kid, and I guess I just never outgrew it! I still save worms that misguidedly squirm out onto the sidewalk after a heavy rain. They are good for the dirt.  Go worms! Go dirt! Go veggies and chickens and GO LIFE!!!

Quote for the day: "Being cool is about being yourself." 

--Eric W. Cowperthwaite cousin and all around good guy