So first… the book. Well, two books. My mother-in-law gave them to me (and I think everyone else in the family) for Christmas. I had heard of both, but seemed not quite the type of books I’d pick up for myself (I read a lot of historical fiction, and neither of the books were in this genre). Having received them as a gift, though, I gladly read the first few pages of each before making a final decision. As it turns out, I really liked both and thought they were interesting… and—key word of the day—thought-provoking.
I can hear you asking “Well what the hell books were they?!” If you’re Meg or Rebecca, you know already, I’m sure. But for everyone’s sake… the books were Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingslover, and In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto by Michael Pollan. Both are absolutely worth reading, and if you want to borrow my copies, let me know!
Both books offer thoughtful insight to the way we eat; one focusing on eating locally and the reasons we should value a “locavore” diet, and the other concentrates on the importance of eating real food, not the pre-packaged garbage we all reach for (I’m as guilty as anyone) that have ingredient lists we can’t even come close to pronouncing correctly. I was fascinated by both… and a little terrified as well. But I realized that I can do a lot better than some people can in controlling what and how I eat because I have a garden in which to produce my own food supply. Which is why I went a little crazy this spring and planted radish, green beans, spinach and lettuce while I wait for squash, zucchini, tomatoes, eggplant and peppers.
Shortly after finishing both books, I discovered that a small, local restaurant group is hosting a weekly farmers’ market--dairy and meat included-- and I was really excited about that prospect. I might actually go and see what I can find. I have plenty of my own veggies, but there isn’t anything I can do about eggs, chicken or steak… and let me tell you something about super fresh, local beef. Get some! There was a place called Stripling’s (now The Saltlick) where my husband and I would stop every time we came home from a visit to Apalach or to my in-laws’. It’s a glorified convenience store, but they have a butcher counter at the back full of the most amazing cuts of beef and pork and country sausage. We never left with enough, its so damn good. Wanna know why? Because the people that owned the store also own and raise the cattle and hogs and do the butchering themselves. Its that family’s name on the line, so you better believe they are producing quality meats.
Excuse me while I plan my next trip to the beach just so I can get some Saltlick rib eyes…
So what I’m sayin’ is… read those two books, even if only snippets, and think about where your food comes from. I know I have been thinking a lot more about mine.
Allrighty, so book reports out of the way… moving on to a trip I just returned from. For Christmas, Will gave me a travel guide to Boston… meaning, “Hey, I want to take you to Boston but its way too cold there in the winter, so let’s wait a while.” It was a long wait, but worth it. We had a fantastic time, and it was much, much too short a trip.
If you’ve never been to Boston, GO! It is an amazing city that’s easy to get around on foot or riding the T (don’t ask me about driving in MA… it was awful, and in the words of another southern belle, as God as my witness, I will never do it again). its kind of like… Charleston meets Manhattan; oozing with history and charm, but with the hustle and bustle of all things urban. I had been to Boston twice while I was in college, and just loved it from the start even though I did absolutely no sight-seeing. It just gave off a great vibe, and I don’t think I could have appreciated the history of the city 10 years ago, anyway.
This trip was a lot different than those I took in college. Immediately after checking in to our hotel, we set off walking around the city… Faneuil Hall & Quincy Market, then over to the North End (like Little Italy) and then as we came off a side street, we stumbled upon this statue of Paul Revere in a little courtyard.
And that’s the biggest reason I love Boston. Stumbling, almost literally, into history. “P. Rev’s” statue is part of the Freedom Trail that goes all over Boston, linking one historic site with another (it’s a walking trail literally either painted red on the street, or paved with bricks on the sidewalks, which is pretty neat), so we followed it about a block to the Old North Church, which is actually still an active Episcopal Church --“Christ Church” is the actual parish name--that holds mass every Sunday.
As we walked inside Old North Church, I was absolutely overcome with emotion. My eyes welled up a little, and I got a big lump in my throat. I just couldn’t help myself. That church is an icon of United States history, and every American child knows why it is important. Standing there, below the church tower where the lanterns were hung to signal the approach of the British, I felt so much joy, pride, and reverence for the colonists who stood their ground and fought to become a free and independent nation. “Awe” is not an appropriate enough word to describe how I felt.
The entire trip was a history lesson… from Old North Church, to Gloucester and the Fisherman’s Monument, to Concord and the Minuteman Park, and each new little peek into the past gave me reason to pause and be grateful.
One final thing to think about… and this is something serious, but not in the same vein as American Revolutionary History or why pre-packaged, processed foods are killing us, but it struck me as so wildly odd that its been bugging me for over a month.
I have two dogs. Hank and Gus. And a pony, Alfie. And I cannot even begin to tell you how much stress they cause me… and its not because they are naughty (though they certainly can be), but simply because I worry about them and wonder if I’m doing the right thing for them by feeding X or not letting them have Z. I feel a horrible sense of guilt if Hank and Gus get short-changed on their walks, or if Alfie is out in the rain, even with his turnout sheet on (and for crying out loud, he is a horse Amanda). But I just can’t help myself… for now, they are my kids, and even if I have children of my own, I still think I’d worry about my animals the way I do now. I’d just worry about the human baby a LOT more. Hello grey hair!
About a month ago a co-worker and I were discussing our dogs, I said something I thought was rather innocuous like “We get up every day at 6:15 to take the dogs on a walk, and then again when we get home from work”. So when she looked at me with her eyes bugged out and an expression that could only be disbelief, I was taken aback. “Wow,” my co-worker said, “Mine only go out in the back yard for a couple of minutes a couple times a day. You must be really committed to your dogs.”
*insert sound of screeching tires*
Wait…. WHAT??!?! You don’t walk your dogs? Isnt that something that dog owners just… you know… do? I mean, I know every dog is different, and for the little dropkick dog breeds, running around the back yard for a couple minutes might be enough for them. But this girl I was talking to had Beagle mixes. TWO of them. Don’t tell me they don’t get walked… that’s practically doggie torture for a Beagle not to be able to go out and smell the world.
What is it, actually, that makes me “a committed dog owner” just by walking my dogs twice a day? I obviously love and care about my dogs, but I see walking them—or getting them some other type of exercise—to be just as essential as feeding them, not as some above and beyond step. Shouldn’t a dog owner make sure their dog gets exercise? More over… what the hell does your house LOOK LIKE if your dog isn’t getting exercise? What does your DOG look like? A watermelon?
I didn’t even know how to respond to my co-worker. I work in an interesting place where, I think, unfortunately, a lot of the women my age see dogs as some sort of a stepping stone to having children. Which just does not make sense to me at all. Dog does not equal baby. Another female co-worker of mine recently adopted a coonhound. I was shocked at her and her husband’s decision to have a coonie as a first dog (neither had ever owned a dog, not even as a kid, and coonies are not the easiest dogs). I chatted with her about it to kind of pick her brain, and she seemed very sure of her decision. I gave her some tips on dealing with these lovely stubborn dogs, and wished her luck. Two weeks later she was complaining about how bad it sucked that the dog whined and cried outside their bedroom door all night. NO kidding! And you think a baby is going to be easier?
I just don’t get that mentality. It’s a dog… a living, breathing being that relies on you for all its needs, including companionship. Its not an accessory or a precursor to an infant. Don’t dress it up. Don’t put it in a baby sling. Treat it like a dog, people. Walk it. On a leash. Down the block and back. Feed it dog chow, not that leftover sushi or other frou-frou food you “think” he likes.
And now if you’ll excuse me… Gus just came in to let me know its time for his evening walk. I’d b more than happy to oblige, GusGus… especially since your bother just came into the office and ripped one.
(next installment, I promise a tutorial on how to properly prune your tomato plants... bet you didnt know you had to do that, did you Meg? I'll also fill everyone in on the garden's progress, my wonderful, fantastic, A-Freaking-Mazing pony and how I still have not yet set foot in the gym.)
Yeah, I've never understood why people used animals (mostly dogs) as child substitutes. It's not good for the pet and it doesn't help a bit in training you to have a child!
ReplyDeleteI think I remember something about pinching off "suckers" from my childhood...
i took a WHOOOOOOLE lot of pictures for you, Meg! Suckers, pruning off before the first blossoms... all that good stuff!
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