Blog a la Cart

I’m posting from 30,000 feet, a’thank you Southwest Airlines. I’ll be on the west coast until next Tuesday, so James is holding down the fort at the farm, which I can only imagine with be a furry, feathered, flatulent-filled five days.

Also? This post brought to you by the letter “F” and my obsession with alliteration. (Courtland “Kaki” Cart, anyone?)

The highlight of this week came on Sunday, post-apple picking, during a fall shoe shopping mission for the preschooler. Addison is growing like a weed, and due to the drop in temperature, sending her to school in her summer sandals and water shoes was met with disapproving looks from fellow parents and teachers. Thus, the trip to Target, also known as “People Watching At Its Best” (or Worst, depends on how you approach the wave of humanity, spandex, cigarettes, teen parents, and kids hopped up on Coca Cola Classic that is the essence of our local Target).

I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible, to avoid the feminist-induced rage and nervous tick that happens every time I pass the toy aisle, watch a parent flick his cigarette butt in his child’s direction, or observe a toddler consuming a bag of Cheetos the size of her person with sugary soda in hand…

And time out. Here is where I acknowledge that yes, I judge! I’m Judgey McJudgerton. One of many reasons I relish our isolated existence in rural Vermont and rarely venture out into public space (says she who has a Masters in, essentially, Public Sphere Theory, sigh). And also one of the many MANY reasons why it is so important to keep leaders like our current President in office, because lord only knows how bad it will get if Mitt’s at the helm. Do you think that there will even be an attempt to help educate and improve the lifestyle of the rural poor if that guy’s leading the “free world”? THINK AGAIN, FOLKS! Yes, it may not be perfect now, but it could be so so much worse. Think double or triple or quadruple or quintuple the number of families, teen families, with poor nutrition, poor health care, and limited access to the education and resources they need to have a fighting chance at turning things around for themselves and the next generation.

Whew. Wow. That is not at all what I intended to write about, and yet, it’s that time, my friends. I doubt it will be the last political outburst as November rapidly approaches.

On to the highlight of the week!

There we are, in the shoe aisle of Target, one pink converse kick on Sunny’s right foot and one black chuck on the left, and James and I decide to give her full agency. We’re going to let the kid choose her choice, and what does she choose? She chooses the black kicks over the pink.

Do you hear me, Universe? A three year old girl chose black instead of pink when given the option. Why? Because little girls interest in the color pink has ZERO to do with genetics and everything to do with social programming and cultural conditioning.

#feministparenting101

And here are pretty pictures from around the farm to cap off an unexpectedly firey post.

1. Still obsessed with our new lights in the kitchen. And oh those roses!
2.  Sisters at play
3. Flecks of color around the farm
4. Sunny has mastered hill rolling. An essential skill for one of her age.
5. Enjoying bouquets from the garden for as long as we can
6. Courtland, in her element. Perched precariously atop a piece of furniture, with the dog bowls by her side.
7. Sunny and her new Converse kicks. In black.