Item The First: Obligatory adorable offspring in Halloween costume. I'm just getting this out of the way so those of you who are just here for that can check that right off your list and be on your merry way.
She's a witch! We are pretty sure that she does now weigh more than a duck.
My mom sent her the costume. I realized when we got it that she didn't even know what a witch was. Commence books about Halloween and witches, and much talking up of the costume so she would be excited to put it on. She was. We trick or treated with two other small fry of the same vintage. She wasn't that into it for the first house, but as soon as she realized, OMG, people are putting STUFF! in my BAG!, she was all over it. We just went around our block, and she walked tha entire way, gamely climbed up all the stairs, knocked on doors, and said "I want a trick or treat." We even got a lot of "thank yous." Amazing.
Trick or treating is hard work when you are less than three feet tall and there are lots of stairs.
She doesn't care about the actual candy, since she doesn't really know what it is. It's just the getting of it and the putting of it in the bag. After we were done and back inside, waiting to hand out candy, I gave her a Kit Kat. She nibbled some of the chocolate off, then abandoned it in favor of some strawberries. We just very rarely have candy in our house, so she's never really had it. I know she will discover its improbable wondrousness sooner or later on her own. For now, I'm just going to enjoy what must be my outstanding parenting skills at getting her to prefer fruit to chocolate.
Item The Second: CSA Guilt
We have been members of the same CSA for three seasons now. Our season just ended last week. And yesterday, I purged my refrigerator of an embarassing number of large Ziploc bags of greens. I felt horribly guilty for throwing away perfectly good food (well, I guess that's arguable if you're not a fan of greens) that is all nutritious and shit, and that I supposed I could Fed Ex to Haiti or something, but goddamn, it was a lot of greens. A. LOT. I'm sorry, Barbara Kingsolver; I'm sorry, Mom, but I was just done. I had no energy for any more kale chips or sautes of greens or salads or woody stem plucking. A goat would have been helpful, but alas, the CSA did not provide one of those. And now I feel free. You can see things in my fridge, and even take them out now, without risking an eyeful of mizuno. I have purged the greens, and the guilt.
We're also kicking this CSA to the curb, and picking up a new one next year. The one we use now used to be the only game in town - it delivers to our neighborhood from the farm out in Maryland. Now, there are at least three competing CSAs, and probably more. We joined a CSA to put our money where our Michael Pollan mouth was, and we liked supporting Scott and his wife, a young couple who had no farming background, and just decided to do it. They've even converted other farmers, including some Mennonites, in their area to organic farming. But after three years, we found our current CSA a bit disorganized, and the quantities of vegetables sometimes overwhelming. We know Scott will easily fill our spot - he has had more requests for subscriptions than he can fill over the last couple of years. Our new CSA offers smaller shares, and more options, like eggs, meat, more fruit, homemade jams. It's a full-on, genuine family farm, with at least three generations participating. We've been buying their goods at a farmers' market for two years now, and have been impressed with the quality of their produce, and their organization.
My god, we are such foodie-yuppie-hipster-liberal snobs. I'm comparison shopping CSAs. But seriously, it's a wonder of riches now. I'm a fan. I drink the Kool Aid. Plus, you know what I see at the farmers' market every week? People from the surrounding neighborhood using their WIC coupons to buy fresh, local. organic produce. That cannot be a bad thing.
Item The Third: I am totally dreading the time change and winter. I am still wishing I were on summer vacation. I even check the Vineyard weather and webcams all the time, even though it's fall there too. It's that crushing darkness that gets me: dark when I leave for work, dark when I get home. Each holiday that's passed - Labor Day, Columbus Day, now Halloween - has made me surprisingly sad with its passing. With a little edge of panic, because that time, those moments, that summer, they aren't coming back. And now, with an active toddler, we aren't going to be headed for a quick playground session in the evenings when I get home. We're just stuck in the house with each other. Crap. And did I mention it's DARK?
I think it's also the passing of time, the rapid-fire changes in my girl, the milestones whipping so rapidly by, that are making me sad. I can't really remember how she said certain words when she first learned to talk; her diction is so clear now, in that high little silvery voice. It floors me that a year ago, she wasn't walking yet. Still crawling for locomotion. She trick or treated for the first time yesterday, and it was unexpectedly so much fun, so cute and charming, and just...perfect. And now it is gone, never to be the first time again.
I need to look forward. I'm asking for some new winter running gear for the holidays, to make sure I get my butt outside each day that I can. I need to remember how much I like cozy sweaters, and that we can have fires in our fireplace this year, and that the Olive will be old enough to sled and make snow angels and snowmen if we get some snow (just enough, not too much, you hear me assorted and sundry weather gods?). I need to introduce her to hot chocolate and cider and thick, satisfying soup. And remember that the whirl of the holidays is coming, and we convinced my mom to come to us for Christmas, so we don't have to travel. I have to remember how big the girl is, that she gets things now, that she'll like the Christmas lights (hopefully as much as the pumpkins), and that we can take cold winter walks in the starry night, the way that Seth and I did when we first met. I have to remember that it can be good, that I do like winter.
And maybe see if there's any possibility of booking a warm-weather vacation in February so I do not actually lose my mind. Perhaps this would count under our health savings plan for mental health care?
Comments