Support A Farmer

So I went ahead and joined a CSA last week. A CSA you ask? Yes, Community Supported Agriculture. Basically, it’s a food subscription. You pay a local farmer up front by the quarter or year and in return you are given a box of produce each week. I split my membership with a friend since I knew my family of three wouldn’t be able to eat a whole box each week.

There are a lot of farmers starting with CSA’s in our community. We chose ours because he has been a successful farmer for many years, so we are familiar with the quality of this goods and we know he’ll be around (hopefully) for many more years. We also choose our farmer because he all of his produce is organic. Not just, no spray. Not just natural or all those other euphemisms but organic.

Our membership cost $1000 a year. Ouch, you might be thinking, but in reality since I split it my half was $500. I know that’s still a lot of money, but weekly that comes to $9.62 a week. That’s less than $10 a week for fresh organic produce that is picked within 15 miles of my house. Produce that is picked the same day as my pick up. You really can’t beat that.

I picked up our first box last Thursday and look at what we got.

2 cantaloupe
4 avocados
1 bag of green beans
1 bag of spinach
1 bag of lettuce greens
1 onion
5 tomatoes
1 pint of strawberries
3 squash
4 peppers

I took half of that which I think is a pretty good deal for $9.62.

I better start eating more of it cuz I got another box coming in just a few more days.

Randomness...

Chirp chirp... I hear crickets.

Haven't heard anything back from The Bride about it yet. I have a feeling I won't.

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Don't make the same mistake I did yesterday. When you go shopping at Target, make sure you don't wear a red shirt unless you don't mind telling people where certain things are in the store.

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I'm off with The Little Miss to San Francisco. I'm looking forward to our 5 hour road trip tomorrow with her chatting away. Wish me luck. Give me (or her) drugs, please.

Well, I've Gone & Hit Send

About my last post.

First, I think Hanlie is right. I really don’t think The Bride even made the connection. Why would she? She’s been pretty clueless about a lot of things lately and I’m sure what she said in her email made absolutely ZERO impression on her.

So, on the encouragement of a lot of you out there namely Shelly, Cammy, and Juice I went and sent this to her:

Speaking of going out of town... Did you book your trip to your cousin’s wedding? I know you were balking at the $1200, but in reality, that’s not that bad. Just our airfare to come out to DC was that, so if you can do your whole trip for that rate, I think that’s pretty good. And besides, I know you appreciated everyone travelling to your wedding and I’m sure it would mean a lot for your cousin for you to go to hers.

It was the nicest way I could tell her what I really wanted to say.

Sometimes You Just Have to Laugh

I got this email from The Bride over the weekend. I totally had to laugh, because is it not funny how your perspective changes when the shoe is on the other foot. I was complaining about the same things to myself about her wedding when she had no challenge about the amount of money people were spending to go to her wedding.

Read it and laugh with me.

We are trying to figure out our fall schedule right now. My cousin is getting married in Laughlin NV in October and I really want to go. The bummer is that they are doing it in Laughlin (adds a rental car and an additional couple hours of travel to the already long trip) and a few weeks before Thanksgiving, so it's tough. I figure it will cost us around $1200 for a super fast 3 1/2 day trip.

$1200! That's nothing... I spent that much on airfare alone.

Welcome to the world, my friend.

Are You an Athlete?

I saw this in my Title Nine catalog yesterday from Missy Park, the founder of the company. It really hit a cord with me.

An Athlete is….

A mom squeezing in her workout before the kids wake up.

Candace Parker squeezing in one more rep as she prepares her post-partum body for another season of pro hoops.

A woman who juggles work commitments but never forgets her commitments to herself.

That woman on the elliptical breaking bad habits as she builds a better body.

Dara Torres breaking barriers even if she’s not breaking records.

A girl discovering the competent machine that is her body.

A woman discovering the same thing.

By that definition, I'm an athlete.

What is an athlete to you?

Todays Post Brought To You By the Letter F

The scene from last night:

She saw the others I was making for the other kids.

“I want one Mama, with an F on it.”

“OK sweetie, I’ll make one, just for you.”

Since I finished the others shirts last night, I got up early to have hers ready before she woke up.

Scene from this morning:

“Hide your eyes, I said.”

She closed her eyes, and asked, “can I open them now?”

“In a second.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

Stare. Blank. Nothing.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? An F?”

“No, mama, I wanted a T. I don’t want an F. And I didn’t want polka dots.”

“What?”

“I wanted a T. I don’t want an F. And I didn’t want polka dots.”

“Seriously? So you don’t want this one? This one, that I got up early to make? Just. For. You?”

“No.”

“So really, you don’t want it?”

“No.”

“So, I can give it way to another girl whose name starts with F?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever.”

So… if any of you out there know of a girl who wears a 4T and her name starts with an F, let me know.

Wordless Wednesday

This Litte Miss and her friend

To Do List for Today

My to do list:

Make lunches –done, made 3 lunches this morning
Sort and do laundry (5 loads) – started 2 of them this morning before leaving
Make beds - done
Get The Little Miss ready for school – done
Drive The Little Miss to school – done
Put in 4 hours at work
Clean up the kitchen
Empty the dishwasher
Pack and ship items sold on ebay
Come up with a name for my etsy shop
Go to my doctors appointment
Go to the farmer’s market
Pick up The Little Miss from school
Make dinner
Sleep

Some days seem too busy. Today is certainly one of them.

Coming Out of My Ears

2009 Peach Crop

I have a feeling I'll be busy making peach jam, peach pies, peach cobblers and freezing a lot of peaches this weekend.

Seems they all come ripe on the exact same day.

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On another note, do any of you readers out there have an Etsy shop? I'm thinking of jumping in and would love some advise. Please contact me at biggirl65(at)gmail.com if you do and you'd be willing to help me out.

Thanks.

Dinner Tonight

Linguine with Tomatoes and Herbs

1 pound tomatoes, cored and finely chopped
1 tablespoon chopped basil
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 small red chile, seeded and minced
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
12 ounces linguine
3 baby zucchini, thinly sliced
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, plus more for serving


In a large bowl, toss the tomatoes with the basil, parsley, garlic, salt, chile and olive oil.
In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook the linguine until al dente; drain well. Add the linguine to the bowl along with the sliced zucchini and toss. Add the 1/4 cup of grated cheese, toss again and serve in bowls, passing more cheese at the table

Dinner will be served around 7 o'clock, you bring wine.

See you all later!

I wish.

Women Lay Face Down, Men Lay Face Up

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. The Husband had taken The Little Miss for the day so the house was seemed too empty and quiet. A perfect day to relax, reflect and clear my mind. I drove down to the beach to catch the breeze in my hair and let my thoughts wander to other spaces.

I headed left. The sun in my face, the breeze at my back, and cool water lapping at my feet. I tuned into my music and put one foot in front of the other. Walking further from the crowds the space emptied out. Only a few people sunbathing here and there. And then none. My own little piece of beach. Peace. Quiet. Me. Alone.

I wandered a little further and could see the next enclave of people enjoying their Sunday. Dogs playing fetch, while their owners threw sticks and balls. Couples lying together. People solo, enjoying the sun on their bodies. Closer, closer, hmmm something seems different. Do I really see what I think I see? One foot in front of the other. Closer, closer and yes. It is what I think I see. Nakedness. Everyone. Naked. OMG.

Don’t stare. Look straight ahead. Wait, I want to peek. If I keep my head straight and just move my eyes as far as possible to the side, can I get a glimpse? Who are these people? Do I know any of them? No, don’t look. OMG, here’s a guy walking down the beach. We’re on a collision course. Where do I look now? His face? His body? His penis? Crap. What to do. Stay calm. Just pretend he has clothes on, say a brief hello.

“Hello”

“Hey”

He passed, but I did look. He was hung.

I kept walking and thinking. Mainly wondering what it might be like to confident enough with your body to the point of feeling okay with being naked in public. I’m so far from being there, I can’t even imagine. It must be fun. And freeing. I still don’t like to be naked in front of my husband, let alone being naked at all. I like the comfort of hiding myself behind my clothing. I have folds where there should be none. I have stretch marks all over my belly, breasts, arms and legs. I have so much I hide. I have too much I hide.

I’m envious of those who can bare all. I wish it was me, but for now, it’s now. And for those of you who do bare all, why is it that while I was walking down the beach I noticed most women lay face down while the men, like to lay face up with their manliness exposed to the world?

Twirly Girl

I was going to blog today about how someone in my house has lost 6 pounds in the last 2 weeks. And no it wasn’t me.

I was going to blog today about the really nice walk I went on this weekend, but I’m not.

I was going to blog about the new yummy yogurt I tried today, but I’m not.

I was going to blog about the girls night out I had last night, but I’m not.

Instead, I’m going to show off to you this dress I made for The Little Miss this weekend.

Is this not the cutest thing ever? Well maybe not ever, but I’ve been patting myself on the back so much that my arm hurts. Now I just need to train The Little Miss to say, “Look at this dress my Mom made for me. Isn’t it so super cute?”

Twirly Girl