When I woke up sick the other day, it was from a dream in which there was a 60s soul kind of song with the lyrics "You're awesome...yeah, you're all right." "Awesome" was long and melismatic and then "you're all right" was just a kind of tag. I wish I could sing that one to you as well, with the horns and the dudes backing me up. I hope my brain keeps churning out the hits like this.
I'm feeling better today, going back to the office and my spreadsheets (I love them all; they are like my children). I fired up my morning with some homemade sour cherry-pear crisp. I would say there was a bit too much crisp on top, which makes it perfect for stirring yogurt into. Then I read this hilarious bit of prose:
Circus Act's level of fetal activity is unprecedented, at least in terms of my own personal womb occupation experiences. If I hadn't seen the correct number of limbs on the ultrasound, the smart money would be on me birthing an octopus.
While I'm quoting and linking, I should also point you to a random discovery I made the other day whilst clicking around my flickr contacts: These Days in French Life, a blog by a woman living a "Slow Year" with her little family in the south of France. It's basically about opting out of consumer culture and generating as little waste as possible. Naturally a lot of life ends up revolving around food: getting it, preparing it, preserving it, etc, and she's issued additional monthly challenges to herself, like no food shopping for a month, or "Meet Your Meat" (i.e. source the meat and visit the farm and the animals), or cook everything on the woodstove for a month. It's interesting to read about what she discovers through this type of discipline, and it all fits neatly into the things I've been thinking about.
I'd guess that most folks would be very dismissive of the so-called slow life because they've got bills to pay, and that's fair enough. But one of the most potent ideas about slow livin', for me, is that most of us work work work so that we can buy Things, and when you opt out of buying Things, you have more time to concentrate on subsistence activities like feeding your family in a conscientious, creative, use-every-scrap kind of way. There's something very appealing to me about that--about how much it calls upon you to do, and how much togetherness it engenders, and how intimately connected it is to the environment in which you live.
The Slow Year blogger also runs a flickr group called A Slow Year, if you want to get in on the action.
I was thinking about taking a bike ride, but now I see that it's only 39 degrees. Woof! Spring schming.