Friday, April 17, 2009

My husband gave me a contemptuous look as I threw a box of Frosted Flakes in the buggy. There were no needed vocal exchanges, He was right, I was wrong. I found myself looking up as though I were the dog about to doo doo on the rug. Dang those frosted flakes!
If you don't know me already (welcome to my blog!)
I live in a world where people eat granola, nuts and berries, love the outdoors, and support all and any attempts at organic and sustainable food sources. Processed items are gradually becoming more and more taboo.I live in this world, and I agree with it. Mostly.
My kids eat asparagus, cauliflower soup, peas, and fight over the last zucchini latke. My 10 year old hates any drink that 'fizzles'. We have lentil soup and they clean their bowls. I'm pretty lucky for sure.
But sometimes, there's this little nagging feeling in me that says, "Must have Refined...Flour...Sugar..." and I cave. I cave and then imagine Dr. Oz sitting next to me watching me eat it. Jillian Micheals. All my friends that are on Vegan, Raw Food or Healthy diets. Watching me consume my trashy cereal. In my little night boat. Don't rock the boat of healthy eating, I hear the whispers. And incidentally, me daughter has decided to eat Frosted Flakes for breakfast for the past two days! Hmmm.
Where to draw the line...Frosted flakes = bad, but then what about cheese dip at the Mexican restaurant? My husband willingly partakes in it. Technically, it could be worse than the flakes. (If its possible) but more satisfactory. Really, I can't say that Frosted Flakes is delicious; if it doesn't bring me satisfaction, why eat it? It brings me a recollection of a different age and time. I can eat it and be sitting at my grandmothers old table for a brief time. The table where she'd cover the cornbread and put out some saltines and sliced cheese from a big government block. For whatever reason, every now and then, and have to throw in the Frosted Flakes and go back to that table.
I'm sorry I've skipped out on April! What's new? Well, this week, Naomi & I have to build a solar water heater for her Gifted Class Science Project. Most kids are doing volcanoes. Why aren't we? Hmmm. So I have to go to the dump and get the parts.
We did a lot of hiking.
If you know the deal here, I have to hike in order to shop. My husband hates shopping, and the trip to the Pottery Barn outlet cost me 5 miles on the Ben MacKaye Trail. Also, if I want something done around the house like painting or hardwood flooring, etc. I hike as well. We have an exchange worked out, which isn't terrible, but this week, we lost some trees in a storm and our own bike trail was crushed.

"I guess we'll work out a deal," he says, "I'll clean our trail and we walk that new bridge trail." ?

"That's your trail. You want to clean it in exchange for hiking?"

"It's your trail too."

"I don't think that'll work. Installing the basemould & moving the furniture sounds more like it. Tearing out the old carpet. But fixing one trail in exchange for another trail? No way."

"I put the hardwood down, you owe me a camping trip for that still." My stomach hurts at the idea of crapping in the woods. "You lift a rock, crap, then stick the rock back over it," he tells me. Outside. Where everyone can see. "But you won't be around anyone because we're going to backpack in 3.5 miles with all our gear," he says. The kids are giddy at the idea of camping. I have gone occasionally, although I have some difficulty with my fear of hillbillies during these trips. Crazy camo or overall wearing hillbillies. Deliverance types.

(I have some hiking horror stories, for those of you who wish to debate the thought of hillbilly deliverance types in the woods- namely the daffodil-guy. Ask me about that at another time...)

"Wouldn't camping be more fun if we brought some friends?" We actually have no friends that camp. And if we did, you'd have to walk further to 'squat' and relieve yourself. You may even snore that night. What a dilemma.

I've spent too long in front of this electric time suck. I feel I'm growing pale, frail; like little Golem in the Lord of the Rings. Two hours reading blogs, an hour trying to write mine. I don't sit and handwrite the stuff that makes it on here, or edit, which I for sure should do. I sit and purge, then I get up and get on with things.

Time to get on with things :P. Much love & thanks for dropping in!

1 comment:

  1. I love that, eating frosted flakes reminds you of being at your grandmothers table! Thanks for visiting my blog and for your comments!