Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Crikey! I've been shut out of my very own blog for the very heinous crime of forgetting my password. This is where my tolerance for technology starts to wane and sputter and whine. My sister doesn't have a computer anymore because she "punched it in the face." I find this so humorous and understandable because, try as we may not to apply human characteristics to our electronic devices, it is almost impossible not to feel as if an unruly electric device isn't conspiring to drive you mad. I have been tempted many times to "punch my computer in the face," but something, fear of being disconnected, has always stopped me. Not to mention the fact that it would probably hurt.
I've got some new journal entries up at babycenter. You can read them here and here
We're getting to that time of year when Vermont seems like the most idyllic place to live in the entire universe and, similar to childbirth, people who just barely survived the pain and torpor of another long winter here have already forgotten what it was that made them threaten to move to Florida.
The green is riotous, the air pure and rich with the pungent smell of cow manure, spread like cupcake frosting over the hay meadows. As Esther and I walzed the other evening down the steep, grassy hillside (taking care to leap over the stripes of frosting) to pick up our raw cow's milk from the neighbor's house I couldn't help thinking that, despite my constant complaining resistance, I just might be a content country girl after all. I also couldn't help thinking, and mentioning, that just a year earlier, we never would have been able to run so fast down that hill and back without Esther tripping and falling and begging for a piggyback ride. Now her long, strong, able legs carry her as fast and as far as she wishes. Magic. And, when she stopped to pee in the tall grass, I didn't have to help her. My firstborn daughter has mastered the very tricky female art of the squatting outdoor pee. Now that is truly a noteworthy milestone.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
It's hip to be green. I can't help feeling a bit like we are living a morality tale, much like Pinnochio, in which we are warned and warned and warned again about the potential fallout that will most certainly come from our bad choices, yet we choose not to listen until one day the fallout starts to actually affect us directly and we decide it might be in our best interest to listen. Just at that point, an enormous whale comes to swallow us whole.
What am I talking about? I'm not sure, but while stuffing bag after green bag with filthy, yet intact artificial floral arrangements found dumped over a bank behind our local cemetery during Green Up Day yesterday, I couldn't help thinking that us worldly white folks are complete and utter imbeciles. Why are we just now deciding that the native Americans were perhaps on to something with their habit of living in harmony with Mother Nature rather than trying to commandeer the earth for a profit. Now, funny thing, going green is the latest novel, profitable venture. Rather than go out and save the world, I am still sitting here documenting the minutae of our lives here in family land. And you can find the latest earth shattering snippet here