To counter the rage-fest of my last entry, here are some very nice things that I like a lot.
>>>
"Hot Knife" by Fiona Apple from her new stupidly-long-titled record. Never was a particularly huge fan of hers but these songs are so beautifully sparse and playful and clever and moody in all the right proportions. Album of the month for sure.
What if?, the new blog feature from the creator of webcomic favorite xkcd. He uses math & scientific principles to answer questions like what would happen if you had a mole (6.022x10^23) of moles (sadness, it turns out), and how much of the Earth's power needs could be provided by Yoda's use of the Force. I like how he explains his thought process as he's working through a question, and keeps humor in the equation too. Science!
Do you have an awkward situation to celebrate, like breast augmentation, losing a finger or not getting any more DWIs? Cake Wrecks probably has a cake for that.
The Olympics! We are sadly going to miss the opening ceremony because we'll be jamming to Holst at Wolf Trap but I am excited for some quality sportspersonship, international awareness and people doing their best for best's sake.
I opened an email from Planned Parenthood this morning to find that the “DC 20-Week Abortion Ban” bill, sponsored by walking trashbag Trent Franks, just passed committee and will be up for a vote in the House of Representatives. The email urged me to call Rep. Franks, and to encourage friends I know in his congressional district to do the same. While I don’t really have any contacts in Arizona, I’m more than happy to express my concerns to the good Mr. Franks about this unconstitutional, unscientific, unethical and breathtakingly arrogant bill. Can do, PP!
To inform myself a bit more about the bill, I clicked around a bit on the bill’s govtrack site. Gotta be educated when contacting a congressperson, right? And THAT’S how I learned that out of the bill’s 220 co-sponsors, 9 hail from DC-adjacent Virginia and Maryland, and 6 identify as democrats. Hey, awesome, guys! (And yes, it IS mostly – though not exclusively – guys sponsoring the bill). Thanks for helping out us poor DC denizens with this whole lawmaking thing. Self-government and full representation are totally overrated and we really shouldn’t be worrying our pretty little heads! Banning our “shadow” representative Eleanor Holmes-Norton (a title befitting Ms. Holmes-Norton’s badassery but not the level of respect she’s accorded in Congress) from testifying on this bill was totally for our benefit, right? Just like this bill itself, which solely affects Rep. Holmes-Norton’s constituency. And is based on unproven science. And makes no exception for cases of abuse. And most importantly flouts the standing Supreme Court precedent in Roe v. Wade. All just to help out little old us? THANKS.
Flames on the side of my face.
At lunch, I googled around a bit for recommendations about the best way to contact my new sh*t-list of representatives without actually spontaneously combusting. I decided against calling, as I didn’t want my carefully crafted message to be poured into the ear of an uninterested administrator or staffer and then immediately reduced to a check mark somewhere in the office correspondence records. I want it to at least take MINUTES for the message to be reduced to a check mark somewhere in the correspondence records. The Art of Manliness (ironic?) has some good tips for contacting a representative, though at times I fear it veers into endorsing the gentlemen’s club atmosphere of our current congress. The author recommends calling if a vote is immediately pending (which I couldn't establish from the govtrack website), and sending a letter if you feel strongly but time is less pressing. However, letters mean stamps and stamps mean money and I shouldn’t have to pay to have my voice heard. Email, ephemeral as it is, will have to do.
So, I went ahead and collected my targets and went to each of their websites for email contact info. Most don’t supply email addresses, opting instead for site-integrated email forms. Which typically require zip+4 info to ensure that the writer is in fact a constituent. Which, ha ha, I WISH I weren’t considered your constituent, congressperson-friend, but you make it so DIFFICULT for me by supporting legislation that SOLELY impacts my (voteless) voting district. So! If you can totally break the rules about boundaries, uh, so can I?
Pro tip for DC protesters: To get around the zip code email requirement, find the zip+4 of the Rep’s district office and plug it in, and then – if you want to give them your full address at all, which many of the forms require – tack DC and your zip code onto the end of the city name. All this takes extra time, but since my uterus isn’t busy gestating a fetus that 221 people who don’t represent my district want the ability to force me to carry to term past a nebulously-defined 20-week period on the grounds of pseudoscience, religiously motivated bigotry, and/or misogyny, I guess I have the free time. I wasn’t planning to do any work today anyway!*
To hammer the representation point home, I also included this paragraph at the end of each email.
“I request confirmation via mail that this message was received and read. I note that Rep. ()’s website is set up to only accept messages from individuals residing in (his) congressional district. I submit, however, that in supporting the passage of this bill which solely affects my current voting district, Rep. () has made me a member of his constituency and as such I deserve a response.”
Feel free to borrow this language if you too are a) disenfranchised in DC and b) WICKED PISSED.
My full letter** (altered appropriately for non-local dems & Trent Franks):
To the Honorable Representative () and staff:
My name is (), and as a current citizen of the District of Columbia without full representation in congress, I am represented in part by Rep ().
I am writing to register my surprise and frustration with Rep. ()’s co-sponsorship of HR 3803, the “DC 20 Week Abortion Ban.” As a woman and a citizen of the District of Columbia I see this bill as wholly unethical both for its content and for the method by which the bill has been promoted in congress.
As a representative from a neighboring state, Rep. () should be more aware than many that the District of Columbia is not a mere abstraction to be used for political experimentation, but a district filled with real people whose rights are equally real under the law even as we are denied full representation in congress. HR 3803 represents an unconstitutional attack on my district’s right to self-government and my rights as a citizen of the United States. Barring Rep. Eleanore Holmes-Norton from testifying on the bill was further evidence of true disregard for precisely the citizens whom this bill purports to serve.
Furthermore, the bill itself is deeply flawed. Setting aside that all women have a right to make decisions about their own bodies, the bill uses unproven science and flawed emotional reasoning to illegally challenge a Supreme Court precedent regarding women’s health. Astoundingly, the bill even lacks exception in cases of abuse, and subjects a doctor to criminal penalties simply for performing a safe – and legal – medical procedure.
Playing political theater with the lives and health of unrepresented and underserved women in the District of Columbia evidences arrogance and disdain for me, and for the American civic system. I strongly urge Rep. () to reconsider his position on this bill and turn his attention to the true and very real challenges of this time in our nation’s history. Rep. (), women are watching.
I request confirmation via mail that this message was received and read. I note that Rep ()’s website is set up to only accept messages from individuals residing in his congressional district. I submit, however, that in supporting the passage of this bill which solely affects my current voting district, Rep. () has made me a member of his constituency and as such I deserve a response.
Thank you.
*Not actually true. I would much rather be doing paperwork for polar bears.
**Any wonk friends who might be reading, let me know if you have further/better tips for contacting a congressperson in such a way as to induce them (or at least their staffers) to actually listen. I can't see how this particular policy could possibly be more relevant to me short of being personally knocked up, but I'm not super optimistic about getting any response back.
We recently purchased a semi-detached rowhouse in the northern reaches of DC. This has meant so many changes and excitements and new responsibilities that I couldn't even begin to ennumerate them. We've reached a new plateau this week where it feels like for every task we accomplish, three more get added to the list, each requiring more time, travel, additional furniture/tools, research, and energy than the last. Welcome to the Hydra of Home Ownership!
One of the tasks I've taken primarily responsibility for is our yard. I have grand ambitions for the future, but for now, the yard responsibilities basically boil down to "making it look like this house is occupied by reasonable humans." This, in turn, boils down to battle to the pain with a jungle of tall, prolific weeds whose root systems are probably older, and certainly smarter, than I am. Because of the size and shape of the space, our newly-acquired weed whacker is my new best friend. Though I'm not sure it feels the same way about me. Here's how it goes:
1. Suit up. This means donning shorts and a shirt that won't be too inappropriate when I bend over, and then covering myself head-to-toe in bug spray. Then lace on sneakers, both pairs of which I have now greenified past the point of no return.
2. Survey the battlefield. Tonight before whacking I had to locate and move the dozen-plus outdoor potted plants we left in the jungle after the move, which led to such fascinating discoveries as Wow Slugs Can Actually Move Kinda Fast and Oh My God Why Are There So Many Ant Larvae.
4. Go to work. The beauty of the weed whacker is that you can start anywhere and just keep going. There's no filter to clean, no gas to fill up, no nonsense. Just carnage.
5. Power through the guilt. Inevitably as I whack, I find myself thinking about the number of lives that I am upending, or just plain ending. I have little remorse about the weeds themselves, as their whole raison d'etre is to survive ANYTHING. But what of the zillions of little grasshoppers, roly-polys, ants and other harmless creatures who make their homes in this space? Every book I ever read in my childhood about a garden dweller runs through my mind, along with probably a few that I totally made up. Thanks for the trauma-inducing anthropomorphism-laden memories, Roald and Beatrix (Spoiler alert, Ewan Mcgregor DIES).
As I walk the killing fields, I imagine the little bugs sitting down to a nice dinner in their comfy, seemingly-secure homes, only to find themselves suddenly in the middle of an incomprehensible Hurricane of Death. What did they do to deserve this? They merely nestled in our cozy little yard, unaware that it was now Under New Ownership and that eviction notices were being served. Sorry guys! I really don't hate bugs (unless they eat my hydrangeas) and I'm okay with all of you living in the yard, as long as you stay out of the house! But, I will not be stopping the Hurricane of Death, so, something to keep in mind.
6. Mopping up. My general recommendation is to have someone else do the dirty work of raking, bagging and discarding the wet green plant carcasses you've just created. That is, if you bother to discard them at all. Leaving them could be a pretty powerful message to the rest of the lot. Plus, raking is the worst.
7. Retire, victorious. Okay, victorious is maybe an overstatement. "Exhausted" might fit better, though really the physical exertion of holding a magic stick that does all your killing for you is kind of minimal. How about "Retire, encrusted." Specifically, limbs, hair and glasses, gloriously coated with plant matter and bug parts.
Something about big, widely-observed celebrations makes me really contrarian. It probably boils down to, "don't TELL me how to FEEL, political/social/corporate/religious institution! I'll do what I WANT!"
Independence Day is no exception. Don't get me wrong, there's lots to love about this holiday: barbeques, beer, sparklers, a day off from work, and really excellently trashy movie.
But thinking too hard about the 4th of July always gets to me. For years my parents would take my brother and me to a rural-ish celebration out in bumfuck VA for the holiday, and it was usually pretty nice - quiet, friendly, local, tasty - but one year they had an actual war-related reenactment, with a tank lumbering across the huge field and explosions simulating gunfire popping all around it. I remember being wholly terrified, followed by really disappointed. Seriously guys? I recognize the reality of war (though that doesn't mean I always see its necessity, nor in specific cases its legitimacy). I am grateful to those who serve, no question. But I don't see the value in reliving war for live entertainment. And it's not how I would choose to contemplate the state of our nation on its birthday.
For that matter, there's plenty else to consider at this stage in our nation's history that gives me pause. But there are also a fair share of pluses, which I don't wish to overlook. America doesn't do it right every time, and MAN don't get me started on some of those details (not having a national electoral voice doesn't mean I don't have OPINIONS, yo) but there's a good bit to admire too. For all that I know, don't know, appreciate and reject about our country - I just can't do the flag-waving thing. It's not in me.
So, I guess aside from writing cranky blog posts and generally being a pill, the best way to register my (democratically sanctioned) dissent is . . . a mix? Consider it Independence Day for Commies. And enjoy.
(There's like 10 songs missing including the below. I blame Spotify, but you get the idea.)
We won free tickets to an advanced screening of Moonrise Kingdom last week and it. Was. Glorious. Easily shot up to the number two spot in my (highly competitive) Wes Anderson rankings, beat out only by The Royal Tenenbaums - which in turn ranks pretty high on my list of favorite movies of all time. Anderson movies have become something of a cliche because he is so very consistent in his viewpoint, direction and aesthetic, but they never feel dated or repetitive to me. There's something so counterintuitively compelling and true about the stiffness and awkwardness with which the actors approach their roles in his films. The consistent use of comedic actors in decidedly deadpan/dramatic roles might fall flat with other directors, but with Anderson it just feels right. I don't know any other director, except possibly Ben Stiller (a comedic actor himself) who could possibly make a muse out of Owen Wilson without making himself a total laughingstock. Somehow, it works.
Anderson's characters themselves are equally lovable for their earnest naivete and their bumbling semi-competence. Everyone you meet is either an emotionless automaton or a selfish, isolated mess of a human, whether because of his or her own poor decisions or because of past tragedies (sometimes both). Love storylines are typically weird, thwarted, intergenerational or even semi-incestuous. But, because we're watching a movie and not just people sitting around crying, these sad sacks are not going gentle into whatever good night might await them. They are agents in their own stories, compelled to move forward into their world(s) to pursue what they lack, or at the very least lash out at those who they perceive to have what they don't. And, I'll admit, I don't mind that in most of his films, Anderson's characters generally reach some point of reconciliation if not catharsis. I like "happy" endings and I won't apologize for it: they're emotionally satisfying.
I also enjoy that his movies tend to have dog and library book fetishes, wicked beautiful soundtracks, and that at least three of them contain a pivotal line that begins "I love you, but . . .":
Moonrise Kingdom: "I love you, but you don't know what you're talking about."
Fantastic Mr. Fox: "I love you, but I never should have married you."
(Animated gifs not directly tied to quotes, because a) spoilers? eh. and b) the right gifs were hard to find.)
In any case, I highly recommend Moonrise Kingdom. The film certainly certainly scores high on the twee-factor but also feels fresh because of the two unknown but instantly lovable preteen actors at the center of the story. The initial flow from scene to scene feels a bit choppy (even for Anderson) because there are so many characters to establish sans narration (excepting the occasional interruptions of time-traveling weatherman Bob Balaban). But once we zoom in on the two kids at the heart of things it's smooth sailing until nearly the end. Also Bill Murray takes off his shoe and throws it at Ed Norton. What's not to love?
Hello blog! Apparently you are published in monthly installments now! The words, they are not being used. Let me 'splain.
No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
April: Running month. Success. 5k #1 accomplished at 29 mins flat, which I'm pretty pumped about even if it was a total fluke. Registered for 5k #2 in June - a hilly one this time, so training runs through the National Zoo are a go. Also registered for the Color Run in September; I'm pumped about that. My right knee has been swelling up after each run but according to my medical-professional bro, I'm probably just old, so I need to get a brace and take more Ibuprofen. Also perhaps some kind of running cane? Just kidding, it's not that bad. Drugs, RICE and denial, those consummate friends of athletes everywhere, I welcome you into my life.
May: uh, I kind of forgot to set a goal for May. But partially that was because E&I got into a kind of consuming project which I guess I'll call the May effort: househunting. Things have moved really fast with that, and the end result is that if all goes as expected we may be moving in the next month or so. Which is kind of blowing my mind in a lot of different ways that merit attention, but not right now in this public space. More to come on that later.
In the meantime, one interesting side-effect of a possible imminent move is that I'm trying to use up foods that have been languishing in our kitchen which I don't want to drag with us to a new place. The prime suspects at the moment are:
One (1) brick of Velveeta cheese (Seriously, a BRICK. It is brick-sized, or larger, and it is composed of Velveeta. Also a year old, and precisely ZERO PERCENT the worse for wear).
Three (3) bags of corn meal from 3 different brands.
I know you're very excited to find out what ridiculousness can come from that. I am down to mere slivers of Velveeta at this point and have made a good dent in the corn meal. Also some unholy messes. Stay tuned.
The last few weeks have hit like a tornado of awesome. I was in the Bay Area for work during last week of March and had lots of amazing adventures there (riparian bike tours! secret hot tubbing! fancy dinners! seal hospitals!) Then I was out in the DC 'burbs dogsitting for a week, which was less obviously eventful but did involve a lot of dogtime and a walloping commute. Easter and Passover happened somewhere in there, kind of, in the sense that I ate a lot of really good semi-traditional foods in the company of really good, semi-traditional family. And then this week has been kind of nonstop, between two concerts, a (grating, 3.5 hour) play, and dinner/drinks with friends. The rest of April is filling up with other awesome events - book club, bowling league (high score on my team last week thankyouverymuch), food and drink events, some minor volunteering and who knows what else.
Well that doesn't look like very good water management, Oakland. Who's that sexy bike in the background?
I really liked this painting in the lobby of the Palace Hotel in SF. (Warren G. Harding and the King of Hawaii died there!)
I'm really enjoying myself during this spurt of activity, though I know that I will need some downtime in there somewhere just to unpack and read books and finish that damned Chuck Close puzzle already. Also bake, watch Gregory Peck movies and do some yoga. Maybe get down to under 100 on my Google Reader, just to watch it bounce back up to 300 the next day. You know, important stuff.
In case anyone was thinking, man, I really feel the need to BUY a BOOK for SOMEONE, may I suggest that someone be me, and that the book be this one.
Chuck Close, WE OWN YOUR FACE.
I've also gotten into my April project, which has turned out to be running, somewhat to my surprise. Coming off the 30 Day Shred (perhaps to be discussed in more depth another time) I wanted to keep the exercise momentum going and a couch-to-5k program seemed to fit the bill. I'm on week 3 of the "Ease into a 5K" app on my iPhone except I'm cheating and running more than I'm supposed to each time. And I signed up for my first ever 5K in mid-May, which is way scary for someone who feels perpetually like an exercise imposter, but it's a great cause which helped me make the decision.
I had kind of hoped I could have a different April project, actually, because I'm afraid that making running a month-project will make me less likely to continue with it after April is over, but I'll have to run at least until mid-May and we'll see what happens after that. I wanted to make April about writing, which I am crap at doing these days, whether in journal, blog or creative form. Maybe May will get my words flowing. Maybe not. No TV month will be coming up soon, possibly in June (when do the good TV shows go away for the summer?) so maybe writing can take TV's place. I actually haven't been watching very much TV at all though recently, and when I do it's documentaries about the Columbia River Basin on PBS or Antiques Road Show, so maybe that won't be a supertough transition anyway. Who knows. Facebook will be harder to quit for a month, I'm pretty sure of that.
Anyway I guess I don't really have a point but I have to go get dressed for concert #2 of the week so here are some more pictures of things.
Slater hanging out in the violets.
Metro loves E back.
A momentous occasion: my first chicken & waffles! C/o Founding Farmers, where they only fry happy chickens.
"Song 1" by Doug Aitken projected onto the Hirshhorn.
(P.S. +10 points for recognizing the quote from the post title)
So, it’s been a little while since I posted . . . goodbye February, hello March! I have so many weird words to share and Very Important Feelings in the queue (30th birthday WHAT) but I will focus on the month project for the moment.
To summarize my recent progress, February was a bust. I mean, complete and total failure. I meditated exactly zero times. Meditation book by my bedside? Unopened. Twice-a-week meditation class four blocks away from our apartment? Unattended. (Sigh.) No real excuse either – I mean, I was away for one weekend and sick for about a week but neither of those things were preventing me from sitting still with my eyes closed for an hour so this is alllll on me. I intend to revisit this project later in the year, but I already had the next month lined up so I am literally marching on to this month’s project: the 30 Day Shred. Jillian Michaels, you and your weird eyebrows have a whoooole month to boss me around. DO YOUR WORST.
I’m now on day 10 of the shred, which is really just exercising 25ish mins every day for 30 days, each exercise consisting of 3 cardio/strength/core sets plus warmup & stretching. Lots of numbers in there. Lots of squatting and lunging while lifting weights. Lots of jumping on my poor downstairs neighbors’ heads. So far the major results are that more acute awareness of how dirty our floor is (heeeey there dustbunny stuck to my leg sweat, I hope you are enjoying this cool-down stretch as much as I am), negligible weight loss, marginally improved self-esteem and some minor soreness. I am no exercise DVD novice, and there are arguably any number of exercises that I might prefer/realize are better for me long-term, but the 30-day-ness of this particular program is appealing given my overall theme for 2012. Even if it doesn't yield the impossible promise of total shred-dulation, I think it's a good step forward.
Speaking of half-successes, the general resolution that came out of the January vegan experiment is going decently. I’ve had a little unverified meat here and there (sports-event chicken fingers, I wish I knew how to quit you) but in general I’ve been thinking harder about my meats, buying strategically, and going without when my options are limited. I’ve also gotten better at asking questions, which is an important part of being an obnoxious snooty-foodie concerned food-consuming citizen. And the “going without” part continues to seem less and less like a sacrifice and more like just a thing that happens. When we were in WVA for my birthday, we couldn’t find any verifiable meats (not even trout, which were stocked in the local streams) so we ate vegetarian. Sometimes I didn’t even put CHEESE on my food, which is like a major revelation in Michelle-world. Also I was reminded that I LOVE mushrooms even though E doesn't. Fungus get in my belly!
So, despite the failure of February, I think I’ve gained an appreciation for what my monthly projects will mean long-term. I don’t intend to carry the exact practices from any month into an ongoing regimen: I am not vegan now, and after March is over I will not work out every day. But the intense short-term focus on a particular idea or practice can be a jump-start to lead me toward a practice that is more flexible and more sustainable in the long term. For post-March, the guideline might be “exercise a couple times a week” or “maintain general cardiovascular fitness” or “hey you on the couch, remember movement?” Maybe I'll do a a running month next, or a yoga month w/ meditation included, to keep the ball rolling.
On the other hand, the monthly experiments themselves do seem to go better when they require daily practice rather than a few times a week - if I have any lagtime between observances, the risk is that much greater for procrastination or poor scheduling or total February-style failure. 24 hours is evidently the maximum amount of time that I can be trusted to keep an idea in my head.
Groundhog day is increasingly one of my favorite holidays. It has zero religious significance (a bonus in my book), and it boasts small mammals, attention to the natural world, morning drinking and top hats. It occurs at a point where we really need a holiday: just after January ends and at the beginning of cruel February, as optimistic New Year resolutions start to wane and the reality hits that we’ve got about two more months of cold weather coming (regardless of what the rodent “sees”).
I also love Groundhog Day because of the ubiquitous and eponymous (does that work in this context?) Bill Murray movie. As a kid with a February birthday, I never wanted to have a movie theater birthday because the movies that typically come out in January & February are, well, shit. Groundhog Day, released to coincide with the holiday, was one glorious exception. Truthfully it’s kind of a grown-up movie for a 12-year-old’s birthday party (I believe I got a Blossom-style purple hat as a gift that year) but believe me, it made my parents very happy and my older self retroactively so as well.
I love the Groundhog Day movie for its bitterness, its recognition of misery and futility and cold and darkness. And I love it for its depiction of the imperfect human spirit doing battle with those inevitabilities and making good. I love it in spite of Andy McDowell, whose allure genuinely eludes me – she is a wooden actress with a weird accent and a strange face, and her outfits in the film are truly, deeply hideous. I love it in spite of the fact that Bill Murray could never be as happy/changed as he’s depicted as in the end of the film, and that he’s a bit rapey for a good chunk of it. I love it in spite of the rodenticide and the fact that it celebrates Pennsylvania, which except for the semi-bright spot of Pittsburgh is basically one long awful turnpike with occasional rest stops where people steal your Hannukah presents.
Next year, I may have the opportunity to celebrate Groundhog Day at the holiday’s ground zero, Gobbler’s Knob (yes, really). In the meantime, this year I settled for a strange pseudo-celebration of Groundhog Day in DC with “Potomac Phil,” Punxatawney Phil’s more . . . deceased brother. There were paper top hats, groundhog cookies, a PETA protest and some patriotic singing. In the evening I took in a viewing of the movie over Klondike bars, beer and mozzarella sticks. Then, in keeping with the film’s theme of mindless, destructive repetition, I watched half of the movie again at home with E.
And now it’s Friday! And the rest of February (including a looming thirtieth birthday) stretches in front of me. It's gonna be cold, it's gonna be grey, and it's gonna last [me] for the rest of [my] life. But! Winter, slumbering in the open air, wears on its smiling face a dream of spring.
January is finally over and with it goes my no-animal-products diet experiment. This morning I enjoyed a delicious bagel with cream cheese, and last night E and I hit up a Meat Week DC event sponsored by the PORC food truck. (Perfect timing, Meat Week! High fives.) I’m happy to be able to supplement my diet with meat and dairy again, but part of me misses the structure that the diet provided. In some ways it made everyday decisions a lot easier, and now that the entire world of food is available to me again, the options seem kind of overwhelming. What do I want to cook? How ethical do I want to be in my food choices, now that an ethos (however experimental and temporary) isn’t prescribed for me? To what degree do I eat for health, and to what degree for pleasure? Do I have any Gas-X handy? So much to consider.
Moving forward, I do want to continue to honor the environmental, political and social concerns from which veganism generally emerges. While I like to eat eggs, cheese, chicken and beef, I don’t like factory farming because it’s cruel, wasteful, environmentally destructive and economically problematic. So, the plan moving forward is to avoid meat (and to a degree dairy) unless I know, and generally approve of, where it came from. Free-range, organic, pasture-raised, no hormones, the whole deal. Fortunately, I live in a city where restaurants increasingly provide that kind of information (and vegetarian options when they don’t), and I live a handful of blocks from a year-round farmers market that sells a variety of local meats AND stays open until 1 pm.
We are also fortunate in that we are not totally ill-prepared to spend a bit more money for quality ingredients whose origin is known and favorable. E and I have agreed to stop buying obviously factory-farmed meat at the grocery store (it’s tough for him - the man does love a sale on shaved beef, and who wouldn’t?). We’ve already been buying local bacon, chickens and ribs from the Dupont Farmers Market, so we’ll keep that up and supplement with clearly designated Whole Foods meats. This may mean that we eat less meat in general, so the expense may not change as much, and we will generally be doing less harm, so it’s kind of a win-win. Dairy-wise, we typically buy our feta and mozzarella at the market, as well as farm-fresh free-range eggs. I doubt I’ll start asking about the origin of the cheeses in my pizza at restaurants or anything, but I may stop buying super-processed shredded cheeses in favor of quality cheese that I can shred myself. I’m on the fence about whether I’ll go back to skim milk or stick to almond milk with my morning cereal, but I’m counting it as a positive that I’m perfectly fine with either one. My workday lunch, which generally consists of hummus, veggies and greens/tortilla, won’t be affected at all.
For February, I’ve decided to focus on meditation. I tried last year and really enjoyed the practice, but I crapped out after two weeks because I am bad at time management. This time, I shall persevere! Meridian Yoga is just up the street from me and offers meditation classes; plus I have a book & CD to help out with my home practice. I don’t expect to be meditating every night, but I’m shooting for several nights a week at minimum, with some non-blog journaling thrown in to monitor effects (or lack thereof).
