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

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.