I'm Not Your Wookie. I'm Your Wife.

So the snow stopped just short of us. There was some major disappointment here. But for something completely different...

Dear E,
Recently while the kids were running around the house playing Star Wars and assigning roles and you said "mom should be the wookie", I did have to politely and humorously remind you "I'm not your Wookiee, I'm your wife." (I'm also not your wench). 

Perhaps I overlooked shaving, but geesh! You must promise me you won't ever look at this site ever....(What?! You are doing that right now?! Okay. At least report back). So I'll indulge you and here are some ways you could have easily confused us. First of all, like Wookiees, I too value loyalty, morality, and monogamy. I hope we mate for life and look we had two three  offspring. I like being the co-pilot on this crazy ship.   I am also willing to endure moderately spicy food (check back soon for something on that front).

But perhaps the coolest resemblance is that we both really love trees. I too am a long haired aboreal animal. I fantasize about some of these actual grown up treehouses.

This one uses all repurposed woods and already has tin roofs that would be perfect for rain water harvesting. 

Modified from

http://cyntiafernandes.tumblr.com/image/38929889782

This one modified from Blue Forest Barcraft media would appeal to the hobbit lovers in our house with it's buttressed windows. 

http://www.mostbeautifulpages.com/2012/12/the-worlds-15-most-stunning-tree-houses.html

We'll call this one the Thomas Kincaid Treehouse.

Modified from
http://pinterest.com/pin/103160647686745806/

Could our sustainable house look a little bit more like these? The quickest way to this woman's heart may just be through a tree (yikes, that sounds painful).

So I may just have to get over my fear of heights, become much more adept at technology, and learning to fly things. I may have to get over being such a light-weight- especially since Wookie's specialize in home brews. But I don't really anticipate getting over this pacifism thing anytime soon.

 And also... P.S: Secretly, I have six breasts, but don't tell anybody that.

Love,

Your tree hugging wookie wannabe

**********
Grroooaaawwwr!  I would live in any of those tree houses.   Tree houses are amazing!  

Again, you really should read more of the Inheritance stories by Christopher Paolini.   The first book is basically Star Wars set in Middle Earth but then the world he creates grows in beauty and complexity with the subsequent novels.  The elves are especially fascinating, they make me think of you.  They kill nothing, but "sing their food" from the plants.  They also "sing trees" into the shapes for their houses so that you can barely tell village from forest.   It's like your ideal community right? 

So I'll get to work on that magic-house-out-of-a-tree thing… I should have it figured out by, say, our 30th anniversary 

I love my wookie.

E

Welcome 2013!: An Apology for All Things Me

Hello, in case you are just joining us and wondering whether or not I really am the kind of person who's blog you really want to subscribe to or follow on

[I am. And you do.], OR you have known me for years and have been privy to my unintentional sharp tongue and perpetual foot in mouth disease, I thought I would share with you my first revelation of 2013. In which, I crossed some lines in that Neverland called Facebook so you can see that 1)I am human and 2)I always have good intentions despite what comes out. [I am not telling you the horrid things I brought up, because horrible things shouldn't be repeated and what happens on Facebook stays on Facebook. Right?]

Dear Evan,
It's the first week of 2013 and guess who is already sporting apologies like a bad tattoo? Yours. Moi. Me. I know, you are surprised.

First in reviewing our first few months in Bloggerville, I realized that this Tree Hugger and her Hugger have been the least conspicuous parts of this blog. Well that will be remedied because, (despite what our kids may think), we are actually pretty cool. I look forward to sharing more of our witty banter and personal blows about the quest and implementation of this eco-living thing where like our friends you can love cream cheese (or whatever is the current disagreement of the day), just don't kiss me with it on your breath...

So, for the record, here was our epic exchange:

• Me: It's not so much that I like to argue with people "out there"for the sake of arguing or being right...
• You (Aghast) (Jerk!) No?!
• Me: I just like to enlarge perspectives [including mine] and think about who's being marginalized.
• You: Is that perspective different from theirs?
• Me: M-a-y-b-e.
• You: That's arguing.
• Me: Really? Oh, crap.

Right. 

XOXO
Hannah

In a dairy daze

Dear E,

Remember the summer we got together and I left you, after two weeks, to go study about ecology and sustainable farms in Washington state with Au Sable Institute of Environmental Studies? And then I went directly to a study abroad in England and the U.K. for four months? 

A favorite experience was touring a small scale organic dairy farm in Washington where they were milking around 80 head. It was obvious the animals were well cared for and well adored. The farmer's kids had named most of them. They were pastured except when they were being milked and were surrounded by the scents of clover, raspberries, and apples and all around everything was green. Their babies got to be near the mamas most of the time. It seemed like a pretty great place to be a cow, nay, a farmer. Naively at the time, like most Americans, I thought that just like the fisher price sets and the plexiglass displays at children's museums, this must be how it is at all dairies.

(Later I've learned, that in fact in the data from the last twenty years more than 50% of dairy cows in the US are in fact from Confined Animal Feeding Operations with more than 1000 head of cattle. [As of 2001. See CAFOs Uncovered: The Untold Costs of Confined Animal Feeding Operations by the Union of Concerned Scientists, p.22]. Ugh).

More than half of my time in England was spent in rural Suffolk county running down serene cobblestone paths with curious dairy cows peering at me over ancient stone fences.  (Until very recently CAFOs have been rejected in England. This may be changing). The other half was spent eating an inordinate amount of artisan local cheeses, some of which were made from raw milk.  A visit to Neal's Dairy Yard in Covent Garden was one of the most formative culinary experiences I had ever had. After adjusting to the pungent aromas of many fresh cheeses combined, I was astounded by so much well made floor-to-ceiling cheese, cheese that was bigger than my head.

I was there reading all the pastoral poets and these romantics and later American transcendentalists seemed a marvelous contrast to the greasy cogs of the industrial revolution. I returned further enamored with the rural lifestyle. And had our relationship not already been in motion, I certainly may have become an organic farmer.

How did you ever convince me to return? You, after all, abhor gardening. Nor do you like mucking around in manure. Grow it, nay; eat it, yeah. Certainly your love of food has been important.

(Unlike our kids), you remain the most appreciative and wonderful person to cook for. My heart to you for that darling. You love fine tastes, you know good food, and, one more thing, you love great cheese.

Hannah
 **********
Dear Hannah, 

How well I remember. That time was a lot tougher than I let on. I really was a little worried you wouldn't come back. But of course you came back-after all, I'm very charming ;) .

I don't abhor gardening, but being the slave labor for my parents' garden ruined it for me. Wait- it's not like I don't help. Who built your garden beds and garden fence? [A combined effort!] Who trims and removes trees for you? [About that...]

But I do love seeing how happy your garden makes you. I've never seen someone so excited about basil or potatoes. 

I do love cheese. It's interesting comparing different methods of production and how good and how different cheese from real milk tastes. I must visit these English farms with you. Of course, my ideals of great cheese comes from my travels in France. I would love to compare those cheeses I know and love with the British counterparts...I imagine the French cheeses are somewhat stronger smelling and more pretentious.

Love, 
Evan
 

Remember the chickens, in the study?

E,

This week I’m thinking about eggs and urban farm animals. Remember when I hatched chickens--in our study? Of course you do. Well, it seemed like a good idea... The local extension agency (bless them!) provides educators with incubators and eggs from one of those mega chicken conglomerates, they which shall not be named (see any resemblance to Lord Voldemort?). 

There was me with fifteen eggs and an incubator exuberantly ready to do what I had always wanted but never gotten to do. We plugged it in and dutifully added water for 21 days. Every day I anxiously checked the window. Were they turning alright? Would they have enough moisture? Would any live or would I have to break it to my children and all their friends that I was in fact a mass chicken killer? (Stop chuckling).  

The first day of cracks I sat immovably for hours. (I was equally transfixed only  at the New Orleans aquarium watching a father seahorse, belly heaving, wondering if I was about to witness birth). Birth is a crazy, slow and exhausting process. Slowly a beak; an eye; a pulse through a hole; a wing. Then, wonder of wonders, twelve little damp feathered peeping (and pooping) hatchlings.

The treehugger and her hugger

Dear Evan

So, I'm starting a book, in large part thanks to your encouragement and tolerance of my weird and wacky eco ways. I know sometimes you might feel a little bit like you are Living with Ed, but what did you expect? You married a biologist, from California (the land of fruits and nuts), who became an environmental educator. 

I know at times this can be taxing/annoying/gross/inconvenient and that you have frequently said you need to start a support group called "The Tree Hugger Huggers" for the fellow spouses and partners who are fortunate (or unfortunate?) enough to be with people like me. People who plague you by putting ethical significance on your every action an meal, (are we really going to buy the aerosol spray can of whip cream? And, yes, we do), people who abhor non-native grasses, keep strange biological specimens (ie: bugs, mice, placentas, worms, slime molds) in your freezer, and who have decided that if you grow at least your own body weight in vegetables you to might be worthy of being a Planeteer... OMG he's on the internet! (Thanks for giving me your childhood ring, by the way. It empowers me still). *Check out this cool organization that continues the mission.

Well now is your chance to head that group and publicly lament (and occasionally praise?) your eco-crazy. I'm inviting you to honestly and hilariously document with me the eco-adventures and sojourns into sustainable eating that our family has. Let's look for and relish (oh, bad food pun) the cheaper nuggets that are here all around us as we try to get our lovelies, ages six, three, and under one, to learn about, create, and cherish good food. 

And if we get rich in the process, we can just re-invest that back into good food. What do you say? Are you in?

Love me?

Hannah