CHAPTER 8: DADDY vs. TRYING TRADITIONAL
I love my wife. With all my heart. And I want to help her and try to the best I can. I accomplish this with “Yes, dear” and by doing whatever I’m told. My first employer once told me “Happy wife, happy life.” I’ve tried to heed his warning advice. So, when my wife began talking to me about diet changes, I listened. And I asked questions when needed. Some of it made sense, like not eating packaged and processed foods from the grocery because of the chemicals and preservatives. Some of it was a little harder to swallow (semi-pun intended), like raw milk. Yeah, she had to do some serious convincing for me to be okay with that. But she can break me down much the same way my children can (who are also girls): Repetitive Petitioning. Yes, that’s right, Chapter 7’s phrase of the week.
Anybody remember the term “Psy-Op’s” from the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq? It’s short for “psychological operations” and had to do with dropping flyers and playing taped messages from speakers on vehicles as they drove through the neighborhoods, etc. Messing with the enemies mind to help in defeating them. Here’s an example my elder sibling picked up while over there.
I don’t have a clue what they say, but I can get a good guess from the pictures. The reason I bring this up is that I feel like “Domestic Psy-Op’s” is being used on me at home. A lot. And because I’m pretty simple, it usually works. I guess Repetitive Petitioning is just one method of Domestic Pys-Op’s. As soon as I figure out the others, I’ll let you know. At least, I think I will? Hmmm.
-So it’s a “starter” for sour-dough bread? And it’s a “living” organism? What?
–Raw milk? Alright dear, I can tell you feel strongly about this. (I won’t drink it, anyway.)
–Make our own bread? Sure, I like fresh, homemade bread.
-Grind our own grain for the bread? By hand?!!? Okay, sure, I’d love to turn the crank.
-Make our own yogurt? Really? Sure, have fun with that.
-No, I don’t think it’s cool how the sour dough starter “breathes”!
-Frozen, whole chickens? Uh, okay, let’s get some.
-Join a CSA? What’s that?
-The electric grain mill costs how much?! Fine, just as long as we get rid of the hand crank.
-Yes, I’d love to build you a Square-Foot Garden. I’ll go get the wood for that today.
-I hate to tell you this, but I think your “living organism” is dead.
-Dear, what’s in this jar? I don’t know, it’s white and gooey. Yogurt or kefir what-ir? No thanks, you smell them!
But, I did reach my limit. Chickens. You keep your own chickens for the eggs in your back yard. You build a movable pen, they eat the grass, lay some eggs, and you move the pen. But I’m pretty sure chicken manure is the worst smelling manure in existence (excluding a number of fresh diapers I’ve had the honor changing within the last few years). And we don’t much time left to mess with it.
So, we’ve been doing this for a few years now, and I’ve gotten used to it, to some degree. I know we’re all healthier in the long run. The salsa is awesome, too. Looking back over the list (which doesn’t include everythings that’s been thrown at me), I have to wonder what the next few years will bring. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be an Adventure!
I was cleaning up supper, when the twins started shouting at each other. The older two were already in their room playing. So, I turned and saw what you’ll see in the videos below.
Allow me to translate. Twin on the left is crying like a baby. Twin on right is yelling, “No, no, no baby!” Of course, as soon as I shut the camera off, they switch roles. So I turned it back on.
In case you’re wondering, Cee-Cee is the one on the right. She has to be the most giggliest 2 year old girl in the WORLD! Ahhhhhhh, adorable.