What Do You Expect?

December is a whole month filled with expectations. We’re all expecting something – a present under the tree, a few days of vacation, visits from family, stress, snow, or maybe just homemade Christmas candy.
I’ve been musing on expectations lately for lots of reasons. I coach a group of pre-teen girls in an incredible national program called, Girls on the Run. I get the chance to know these girls on a different level then as a parent or a friend’s parent. I enjoy hearing what they think about a wide variety of social and health issues. And it is exciting to see them train for and complete their first 5K. Listening to them this fall as we ran our laps or “checked in” at the beginning of our sessions, I heard their frustration with their teachers’ expectations and their assumptions of their parents’ expectations. When asked about their own expectations they get giggly or quiet, and then tell me they expect to have fun. I wish that was all the world was expecting of them.

As the weeks passed they girls regaled me with tales of the lunchroom. Seems their expectations of lunch and the administrations expectations were worlds apart. At our school, sixth graders rule. They have been in this building for seven years and it is theirs. So when new regulations are pressed on them that include expectations of quiet during the lunch hour (actually more like 30 minutes), they protest a bit. And the protests have been getting louder and messier. I’m not sure what this will lead to in the spring when sixth graders tend to be notoriously wild - their last chance to be top of the heap before fall when they will gather at the middle school as lowly 7th graders.

The thing about the lunchroom battles that is evident to me is that everyone has a different set of expectations. The kids expect some free time to carry on with their friends – laugh loudly, tease each other, and maybe get a little rowdy. The staff expects them to sit in their seats and keep their voices down. Now the expectations have shifted. The kids to be yelled at for any move they make, and have recess and other privileges revoked for the smallest infraction (their interpretation). The staff expect the kids to be out of control, throwing food and insults, and generally ignoring authority. Comments are made about a grade that is disrespectful, difficult, and unruly.

As I’ve said before, I’m not in the lunchroom, so really I have no place even writing all this, but it’s a free internet and this is my blog so I will. I think the basic problem here isn’t disobedient sixth graders or mean staff. I think both sides need to change their expectations. And maybe they could share their expectations with each other. Respect begets respect I find. Maybe the sixth graders won’t listen. Certainly within the realm of possibilities. But then, what do you expect?

Now let me tell you another story of teachers, students, and expectations. My older son is in eighth grade. At the end of summer when we received his class assignments, he discovered he had an English teacher who is known far and wide around here for her expectations. She expects her students to work hard, really hard. She expects them to learn. She cuts no breaks. She treats them like they are high school students because she sees her job as not only teaching them 8th grade English, but also preparing them for their high school careers. As she said on Back to School night to a room full of expectant parents – “no college will ever request your child’s 8th grade transcripts”. So she pushes them to be real students, knowing that they may fail at times. She expects them to take their education seriously, because she does. And you know what? They do it. Or at least most of them. If you don't set that bar high, there's no reason to expect very much.

I tell you these stories because in all my years of working with kids, my own and other people’s, it’s very clear to me that kids will fulfill your expectations. Whether you vocalize them or not, kids know what you’re expecting. If you’re expecting them to be difficult, lazy, indifferent, or rude, they will be. And if you’re expecting them to smart, caring, creative, and fun, they will be. I believe there are some studies out there that prove me out.

I will be the first parent to admit that sometimes I have pretty negative expectations for my children, especially at the holidays. They will be wild. They will be out of control. They will only think of themselves. And I know that when I change my expectations (or someone helps me change them, thanks honey), the results are dramatic. I find it extremely helpful to let my kids know what I expect. This worked really well when they were small. I remember taking my wild 5-year-old shopping in a dish factory outlet with my mother. At the door I told him – “There are lots of amazing things in here! And you may look at all of them! But if you would like to touch any of these things, you must first ask me.” It worked like magic. We broke nothing and discovered that rubberized nonstick basting brushes feel really funny in your ear.

All this thinking about expectations made me consider my incredibly disobedient, incorrigible puppy. She’s almost two, but she is still a puppy in my mind because she is so bad. And I tell her she’s bad all the time. In fact, I’d say I expect her to be bad. And she fulfills my expectations. When I let her go with me up to the barn to feed the horses, she chases the chickens, scattering them far and wide. And then she runs in the pasture and rolls in horse manure. And the whole time I’m yelling for her. But she doesn’t even look in my direction. She won’t even acknowledge my presence. Which makes me mad. Really mad. I hate dogs that don’t come when you call them. So I mutter and curse and do my chores. And when she doesn’t come when it’s time to go in, I leave her to the dark and the cold. And vow never to take her with me out to the horses again.

She is my running partner too, and I have extremely low expectations on our runs. I know that if another dog appears in any yard that we pass, she will forget that I exist, so I start jerking on her choke chain the moment I see another dog and we struggle past, Gracie gasping for air and me saying things I hope no one can hear above all the barking.

So I’ve decided to change my expectations of my dog. And I realize I need to communicate these expectations to her and that isn’t easy since she doesn’t speak English or listen to anything I say. But I am going to start by not calling her a rotten horrible puppy. Her new name is “Good Dog”. I’m going to praise her more and when she wants to jump on the kids or chase them and bite their fingers, I’m going to distract her with an ear rub and remind her that she doesn’t chase children. When I find her with the insert from my favorite pair of shoes, I’m not going to take the inserts and smack her with them and call her all kinds of unkind things, I’m going to exchange the insert for one of her six thousand chew toys scattered all over my house and remind her that she doesn’t chew shoes, she chews ugly stuffed bunnies.

I’ve heard it said that there is freedom in having no expectations. That sounds so wonderfully Zen-like. But we all have expectations of our children, our families, our pets, our friends. I don’t care what Buddha says, it’s impossible to have no expectations. It’s human nature, so don’t beat yourself up for it. Here’s the thing, if you’re going to have expectations, and you are because you can’t help it, why not expect good? Why not expect kindness? What happens when we treat people the best we can because we expect the same from them? Maybe we won’t always get the best from people. Maybe. But I’m fairly certain that if we expect people to disappoint us, they probably will.

Christmas time is crazy when you have kids at home. No way around it. Expect it. And you can’t change that by simply chanting, “I expect my children to be quiet and obedient little cherubs this year…” Expectations have to be grown in the soil of reality. But realistically – why can’t this be a great Christmas? What are you expecting? I’m expecting there to be chaos, but amongst that I expect there will be moments of joy. I expect my kids to be emotional and excitable and I expect that it will require more patience from me so I don't disravel into yelling and threatening. I expect my kids will want to wake me up before the sun, so I’m going to plan for that. I’ll tell them they can’t get up until 7am. And expecting that this will be difficult for them, I’ll leave a small present from Santa on the end of their bed. Something that will keep them busy (and quiet) until 7. Sometimes our kids need a little help living up to our expectations.

What are you expecting this Christmas? More than that, what are you expecting next year? Expect good things. Good things from your kids, good things from yourself, good things from this world. There's no reason to expect anything less.

"It's the Hap-Happiest Season of All...."

There are beautiful blue and white snowflakes edging my front porch and the sides of the porch are glittering with icicles. The railing of my back deck is wound in brilliant glowing colors. We have Christmas lights! OK, so maybe this is no big deal for you. I’ve seen your house glowing from the interstate with a Santa on the roof and holiday greetings superimposed on your garage door, but for me this is big.

I love holiday lights. Love them. For many years my husband has just shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something unintelligible before slinking away every time I suggested a single strand. When confronted, he has always protested that he has nothing against Christmas lights. I’ve pointed out all the perfect pine trees growing near our house that would look spectacular in lights. And every year, the lights I helpfully lug up from the basement sit in their plastic bin collecting dust until after the holiday when I’ll lug them back downstairs. Some years I’ve compensated by decorating our stair railing in lights and sometimes even the kitchen doorway. It’s festive, but it’s not the same.

This Thanksgiving my little brother arrived with pictures of his over-the-top already decorated house in North Carolina. I loved it and oohed and ahhed and then teased my husband about the fact that he doesn’t like lights. He did his whole indifferent schtick and avoided the subject. But then my little brother asked me why I didn’t just put up the lights myself. Huh? I told him I didn’t think I could figure out how to attach the lights to the gutter without damaging the house (and causing my hubby to say, “see….this is why I don’t like the lights”). But then my brother told me about these nifty little plastic things you could buy at Walmart that made it really simple. And as much as I’m opposed to all things Walmart and all things small and plastic that will end up in the Great Garbage Patch, I found myself toting home a box of 300 clips for just 5 bucks.

But here’s the dilemma for those of us who worry about the earth and our electric bill. How can I in good conscience hook up my 15-year-old energy-hogging lights that date back to the days before I married Scrooge? Back to the store I went to get LED lights – snowflakes and icicles even! The boxes sat on the counter and garnered many reactions. The kids were thrilled – we’re gonna have lights!?! My guilt nagged at me – how could you buy that cheap, plastic crap that will just use up energy needlessly? And my husband pointedly ignored them.

When I finally mentioned to my hubby that I was going to put up the lights myself with my nifty plastic hooks, he caved. In his best scrooge voice, he said we could do it together. I told him I’d only hang lights with him if he hummed Christmas carols while we worked. Finally, a chuckle from ole’ Scrooge. And that is how we came to have lights all around our house.

If I try I can get myself in a tizzy about the lights. We don’t need them. They serve no purpose. They are wasteful. What if they set my house on fire? I spent money on new ones because they were more energy efficient, but now the old ones are just sitting in my basement. So while those lights may be more green, just how green are they if they’ve added to the excess in my life and the world? See, I’m good at tying my head and heart in knots.

But here’s the thing. (And I gave a similar rant last year about why I love Christmas letters) The holidays mean something. And the lights are part of that. There’s the deep spiritual meaning this time of year for people of several different religions – that’s pretty big. But there is also this collective time of giving. Everybody is more generous in December. And even if they are motivated by guilt or habit or obligation – the end result is that people are generous. They are gentler with each other. They gather for holiday meals in restaurants and churches and conference rooms. They smile more, shake hands, give hugs, cards, gifts, cookies, and wishes. Perfectly normal and professional people wear ugly sweaters and jingle bells. They get a day or two off work. Sure it’s a shame that it doesn’t last all year – there are plenty of cards and sermons lamenting that fact, but for a little while it’s here. And I’ll take it.

So I love the lights and the music and the excuse to shower the people I care about with my baking, my gifts, my affection. It’s a chance to send cards to all the people I know and gifts to the niece and nephews that are scattered across the country. It is a lot of work. But it only happens once a year. And I’m willing to stress about the lights and fight the traffic and crowds and fall in to bed exhausted after making too many truffles, because the pay off is huge – happy people. A chance to remember that we are incredibly blessed.

And my scrooge? He’s softening. I came home to find Christmas lights hung like garland around our bedroom. This time of year is magical. Embrace it.

A Whole New Generation

In general, I avoid kid movies. I occasionally stomach them when I can’t avoid it, but for the most part, I find something else to do on movie night. I know, I know, this is the family tradition of the our era – the whole family hunkered down in the dark living room eyes fixed on the latest flick with popcorn in every lap. But kids’ movies get on my nerves. Beyond the obvious plots and dumbing down of the humor, I can only suspend reality so far before I start making snide remarks. So it’s best if I avoid the whole scene.

Last night we had an impromptu family night to re-watch Diary of a Wimpy Kid, which was Friday night’s movie. The kids REALLY wanted their father and I to watch it. So we did. The whole thing. I kept waiting for some poignant moment when it would become obvious why they insisted we watch the movie, but mostly I spent the entire time being annoyed with the horrible, self-obsessed, shallow lead character. And apparently there are four more books centered around him. In the end he makes some retribution for his horribleness, but it was too late for me to be impressed.

All morning I’ve been contemplating that movie and why it was that my kids insisted I watch it. Maybe it was to make sure I understood just how awful middle school is and how much pressure they are under. I asked several times if the scene on the TV was representative of the scene at their schools, and they assured me it wasn’t quite that bad. But I do remember how awkward it is to be a middle schooler. I hope my own children will be a little more clued in than I was.

I worry that we are handicapping them by not having cable, satellite, or high-speed internet. We have no hand held games, Wii, or Nintendo. The only screen we have to fight about is the computer screen and there are plenty of battles over that. In fact, the bigger the battles over the screen the less likely I am to tell the kids that just last week they finally ran cable down our street. We’re toying with the idea of high-speed internet, but I’m loathe to poison our happy existence with a high speed invasion. Right now, the lack of screens leads my kids to play elaborate imaginative games, read books, build things with legos and marbles, create artwork, write stories, and spend hours outside.

They aren’t completely ignorant. They’ve played video games at other kids’ houses. We spend time at the library exploring the World Wide Web. And we have a subscription to Netflix for our weekly movie night. The free television that comes over the airwaves to our house enables us to watch football and baseball and Nova. And on Saturday mornings the major networks still show cartoons and ridiculously trendy (and stupid) kid sitcoms.

That’s still much more media exposure than I had as a child. And it makes me wonder what kind of generation we are raising. These kids are addicted to screens. They know how to react to all kinds of elaborate games, but could they create a computer program? I myself, think the computer works by magic – nothing else within my limited brain capacity could explain how it can open eight web pages at once while I am editing my latest post and listening to the new Rosanne Cash CD my step-mother-in-law sent me.

Our children witness endless stories on TV and online, many that push the limits of their emotional maturity, but could they write an original tale? They laugh and gawk at reality TV, but can they tell the difference between “reality” on TV and real life reality? Will they expect this world to be as entertaining or dramatic or exciting as what they experience online and in their living rooms? More to the point, will they be able to cope with disappointment, difficulties, boredom, and hard work?

There is a flipside to all this. Because these kids have been exposed to so much, maybe they will be more understanding of people with differing ethnicities, opinions, or lifestyles. Maybe these kids will believe anything is possible because they see the realm of possibility challenged on a daily basis. Maybe they will believe they can do anything they set their minds to since they’ve seen all manner of humankind accomplish unlikely feats. My younger brother spent all his spare change and every spare moment in the arcades of our youth. He held the high score on hundreds of machines. Guess what he’s doing today? He’s still playing video games – only on the government’s dime. He’s an air force fighter pilot. After years of flying combat missions, he spends his days teaching young pilots in the simulators. He let me try the simulator once, I crashed in minutes. Lacking the hand-eye coordination and quick decision making skills he garnered during all those long afternoons in the arcades, I was hopeless.

It’s impossible to say whether being exposed to too much or very little media will help or hinder our kids. As a parent I know all too well that I can’t predict my kids and the days of controlling their daily activities and decisions (or the illusion of that control) are quickly passing. At this point, our best bet is to support them and love them and continue to expect things from them – things like following the rules, treating others with respect, and taking personal responsibility for their actions. Those are much bigger issues than how much TV they watch.

So as you battle over the screens, remember the battle isn’t about the screen, it’s about the parameters you’ve set as a parent. Don’t make the screen the bad guy (I’m guilty of this!), it’s no more the bad guy than too much candy, not cleaning up after yourself, or not doing your homework. It’s not that they should shut down the screen, it’s that they should do their homework or practice their saxophone or take the dog for a walk or clean up the mess they left in the living room. Focus on the things they should do and let the screen take its place where it should – in their spare time.

Me? I’m still not going to allow open-access to the screens in our house. But that’s the rule and it’s understood. We’re always negotiating the computer time. I’m toying with the idea of letting down some of my restrictions. As long as my kids always understand – the computer games are a privilege, not a right. Privileges can be lost, but rights can’t.

Who knows what kind of generation we are raising? I hope it’s a generation of open-minded, generous, and quick-thinking people who just happen to have great hand-eye coordination.

The Amazing Cranberry!

This morning’s paper had a feature on all the amazing things you can do with cranberries in terms of decorating. They are beautiful, but it seems a waste, since their real power lies in what they can do for you physically. I love cranberries. Their sweet tart flavor makes just about any dish more interesting.

I eat dried cranberries every morning in my yogurt. And I don’t just eat them because they taste so good. They are also one of those super foods, full of antioxidants. Their ORAC (Oxygen Radical Absorbance Capacity – say that three times fast) score is 9,584. Compare that to blueberries (which get all the good press) score of only 6, 552. They beat them by a mile. A higher ORAC score means the food is more of an antioxidant.

And that’s not all. How about cranberries for infection fighting? You bet. The antioxidants in cranberries, called proanthocyanidins, help prevent bacteria like E. Coli, the leading cause of bladder infections, from attaching to the cells in the urinary tract.

Fresh cranberries are the most powerful, but dried and juice also give you the benefits. But remember those forms usually give you added sugar. Cranberries alone are pretty hard to take – so sour they make you squint. But if you make your own cranberry sauce, you can control the amount of sugar you put in. And it’s incredibly easy to make. Here’s a recipe I like from Cooking Light magazine:

Cranberry Sauce

1/2 cup dark brown sugar

½ cup fresh orange juice (about 2 oranges)

¼ cup water

1 ½ Tablespoons honey

1/8 teaspoon ground allspice

1 12 oz package fresh cranberries

1 cinnamon stick

Combine all ingredients in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat; bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer 12 minutes or until mixture is slightly thickened, stirring occasionally. Discard cinnamon stick; cool completely. Yield: 14 servings (2T each)

See? It’s crazy easy. If you like more orange taste in your sauce, you could add orange rind. And I’ve heard of adding white zinfandel wine as part of the liquid.

Fresh cranberries freeze well and they keep up to a year. So stock up this month because now is when cranberries are in season (at least in the US) and usually on sale.

I like to make cranberry sauce and freeze it in 2-3 cup batches in large yogurt containers, but it can also be canned. I’m going to give that a shot this year. I bet it’ll look gorgeous in the jars.

Want some other ideas for working cranberries in to your diet - pop them in to blueberry muffin recipes in place of blueberries. Use cranberry juice as the liquid in smoothy recipes or simply add it to your kids’ apple juice. I buy dried cranberries that have been sweetened with apple juice instead of sugar. These are delicious as a snack or mixed in to granola or cereal in them morning.

And here’s some of the ideas published in the York Daily Record this morning:

String cranberries with popcorn to trim a tree. (they used dental floss as the string! Be sure to leave garland on when you put your tree out for the birds after the holiday.)

Pour cranberries into a glass bowl, then accent with a candle pushed into the center. (simple, anyone can do this, even me)

In a clear glass snifter, float cranberries and tea lights in water. (love this, I might just shock my family by actually producing a center piece this year)

Create napkin ring by stringing cranberries onto thin wire and wrapping several times around folded napkins. (A lot of work for a short-lived purpose, but might give your kids something to do while you prep dinner)

Layer cranberries and fresh holly leaves in a vase and fill partway with water, then add a bouquet of flowers. (Very Martha Stewarty – will definitely impress especially with white roses or some other white flower)

Cover a foam ball with cranberries using pushpins to hold them in place. Add a ribbon at the top for hanging. (This sounds gorgeous, but a crazy amount of work and my big fear is that it would attract the fruit flies that won’t seem to die this year and are still circling my kitchen.)

If you want to see pictures of how cranberries are grown check out http://www.cranberries.org/. There are a few pictures of cranberries growing and a bog in full bloom They are beautiful and amazing. I’d love to see them in person!

Nothing Free About Free Range

I ordered our turkey last week from the same Amish stand where I got a wonderful fresh turkey last year. This was supposed to be a quick errand. Stop in at the market and order another turkey, 18 pounds. When the sweet little Amish woman in her bonnet asked if I’d like a “free range” turkey this year (for just a dollar more a pound!), I was dumbstruck. Here I was, all along, thinking that my fresh Amish turkey was already pretty much “free range”. I couldn’t imagine the Amish cramming hundreds of turkeys in to a turkey house to fatten up on chemical laden foods while stepping on each other and fighting for air. I assumed (and we know what assuming does to you and me) all Amish turkeys had humane living conditions. I assumed that cute little children in black suspenders and straw hats chased them around the yard, much as my children take pleasure in herding our chickens. So, I was stopped in my tracks by the Amish woman’s question.


Did I want free range? Well, of course I did. But then my skeptical self starting taking over and I began to wonder if these noble looking Amish people were just taking advantage of the ignorant “English” people who shop their market. No one ever calls the Amish stupid. But a line was forming and I needed to make a decision, so I considered the facts. It’s Thanksgiving and this is the only turkey I buy each year, and even more importantly, this is the year my husband is certain he can beat the Germans! So I sprung for the extra buck and next week I’ll pick up our free range turkey who I presume is flitting around the range as I write this.

We have a collection of friends and relatives that numbers upwards of 20 people most holidays. Everyone pitches in and brings something, but we share the turkey preparations with some dear friends from Germany. This has become our tradition ever since we introduced them to the concept of an American thanksgiving the year we met them. They bring a deep fryer and we make a spectacle of the “great turkey drop” each year and the kids ohh and ahh as the turkey is ceremoniously lowered in to the pot. (see picture) As the years have gone by, a quiet competition has developed between my husband and our German friend. Sadly, my husband’s oven roasted turkey is good, but never quite as good as the deep-fried one. Maybe it’s the spectacle. Much is determined by expectations.

I returned to the Amish stand because last year’s turkey cooked up deliciously and it was the closest we’ve come to beating the deep-fried bird. My husband is determined to cook a superior bird. He schemes for months, changing his plan regularly. He reads helpful articles my mom sends his way about cooking the perfect turkey and he surfs the net looking for a recipe for the perfect bird. Seems a bird injected with spices and dropped in to boiling peanut oil is hard to compete with. But last year’s bird came really close. It was delish.

The plan this year is to smoke the turkey, literally. Over the weekend we had a practice run with the biggest chicken my little Amish lady could come up with. It was enormous and after slowly cooking it at a very low temp in the oven, it was smoked over hardwood, chemical free chips and turned out spectacular. I’ve never tasted a moister chicken. So now the challenge is to replicate the results with a turkey.

Much is resting on the turkey I ordered, so I’ve been reconsidering my bird ever since. I even did a little research on the internet. I wondered if beyond price, there was any difference between a “free range” turkey and the frozen butterball mass you pull out of the grocer’s freezer. Of course, the difference between the two depends completely on who you ask. I tried to be discerning and opt for sites that didn’t have a stake in the outcome.

Turns out turkeys are a sensitive issue. Some people get pretty worked up about the taste of a “heritage” turkey and others are simply not going to pay “a hundred bucks” for a turkey that doesn’t taste any different. Nutritionally, I couldn’t find a whole lot of difference, at least when it comes to the actual turkey meat. I did learn that a butterball is not just turkey. Its ingredients list states that it contains: “turkey, water, salt, modified food starch, sodium phosphates, and natural flavorings”. There are plenty of companies that sneak MSG in to their products by calling it “modified food starch” or “natural flavorings”, so I feel somewhat justified in my decision to steer clear of the store-bought variety.

Of course I lean towards the bird that was treated humanely, as we work hard to provide our own birds with luxury accommodations and I can tell when those birds are happy and content or miserable and grumpy. I’m sure that affects their ultimate taste (oh, let me have that one, I’d hate to waste valuable time finding a study to back me up).

There was one fact I read that gave me pause. Several sites stated that free range turkeys are leaner and should be cooked slower. And free range birds have more dark meat. Seems the traditional bird is bread to have abnormally huge breast meat and, as a consequence, these birds can’t really move around much. Physically they can’t free range, even if they were given the option. Hmmm. Now I have to figure out how to break the news to my hubby that I may have handicapped him from the start this year.

I think that making the decision to buy organic or free range or sustainably grown comes down to the issue of trust. I’m paying extra because I believe you when you say this turkey was raised free range, without antibiotics and hormones. Because really, there’s no way for me to know this and there’s no federal agency that’s checking up on a little Amish Farm that sells to it’s surrounding community. So I just have to trust that I’m not being snookered. And what if I am? Well, I guess that’s just the price I pay to help keep our countryside rolling in buggies and windmills.

2009 Turkey Drop

I don’t think my dilemma over the price of free range turkey is unique. We are all making this decision on a less complicated scale on a daily basis. There is much we must take on faith. We will make ourselves nuts if we insist on absolute certainty before we make a decision. There comes a moment when you have to just follow your heart, or your gut, or the coin toss.

Many times the media and our society and maybe personal experience teach us that you can’t trust anybody. I personally think the world is a little too scary when you no longer trust. I’d rather err on the side of being a sucker than a skeptic. There’s very little we can ever be sure about when it comes to choosing what to eat. It seems there is a scientific report or internet site that can promote or refute just about anything you come up with. So it comes down to learning all you can, trusting you instincts, experience, intuition, and maybe, your neighbors. I don’t know who runs the Butterball operation, but I do know my turkey’s grandma and she’s seems honest enough.

How Fresh is YOUR Milk?

I received the following e-mail over the weekend. Not only did I take heart in the fact that at least one person is reading (and enjoying) my rantings, it also inspired me to investigate the local possibilities once again.

Hi Cara ~

Just wanted to let you know that I am really enjoying your blog..... each and every entry! You give so many useful tips on how to create a better life for our families and I share your tips often with the girls at work.

One of the new things we are doing that has made me very happy......is having our milk delivered to our home each and every week. We have an adorable milk box (see pic below) and instead or getting mass produced milk at the store, we now have a local farmer deliver our DELICIOUS milk to our front porch. His dairy farm has been in business for over 50 years. We live in the suburbs so I never dreamed I could get my milk delivered like my Grandmother did!! He even delivers our FRESH milk in those great glass bottles (pic below).

The milk is organic and his cows are not dosed up with horrible drugs of any kind. When you call the farm to order the milk his adorable wife answers the phone and it rings right into their living room :) He is always on our front porch by 6:30AM every Friday and it truly warms my heart to hear him clanking those glass milk bottles. And the best part! (drum roll please) the milk is actually LESS EXPENSIVE than in the store. His half gallon of 2% organic is $3.25....at my market it was $3.50.

And most importantly, I am supporting a local business! I have told all of my neighbors and more and more of us now have our milk home delivered. Thought you would enjoy this and perhaps you can even remind people on your blog that they should do some local research to see if they can get their milk delivered to their front porch! The taste is so superior to that of the store brand. Lew and I cannot get over how delicious FRESH milk is!

I live smack dab in the middle of dairy country. How is it that my friend, who lives in the suburbs of upstate New York, can get wonderful home delivery milk and I can’t? That’s the thing about this buy fresh, buy local food movement – it’s dependent on local economies and local demand. If the people near you are willing to support it, business will boom. Maybe my area is slower coming to this because so many people are farmers or wanna-be farmers. Or maybe it’s that they’ve moved up here to escape the city, but are so far removed from farm life that they’re afraid of unprocessed products.

I don’t know the reason for my areas unwillingness to embrace locally grown whole-heartedly, but it just about kills me that my kids go to a school in sight of farm fields, yet the school doesn’t serve any local food. Everything comes from the big distributor, nothing comes from the local farmer. This seems backward when our message to our children should be that the healthiest food they can eat is whole food, grown close by. “Fresh” vegetables and fruit trucked in from the distributor, who had it trucked in from a supplier half-way across the country is not nearly as healthy, it’s already lost plenty of its inherent nutrients. The healthiest food is grown and harvested and eaten locally.

And then there’s the whole argument for supporting local businesses. It’s in all our best interests that local businesses do well. When local businesses fail, the local community suffers in terms of home values, tax base, and jobs. When we support our neighbors, we are also supporting ourselves (and many times, our health).

Cyndee’s e-mail inspired me to begin bugging some local dairies once again about the possibilities of home delivery. I would encourage you to pick up the phone or bring up your search engine. I was surprised to find that there were more possibilities than the last time I investigated two years ago. If consumers create a demand, suppliers will meet it. Basic economics. We can change the food system in the US. It does not have to be about processed food and mass marketing, we hold the power. Remember that. If you want to learn more about changing our food system check out the film Fresh.

Just googling “home delivery milk” and your city or state will bring up plenty of hits. But you can also try:
http://www.localharvest.org/
http://www.eatwild.com/
http://www.eatwellguide.org/

Note: If you live in the Southern York County vicinity and would like to participate in home milk delivery (also cheese and other dairy and meat products) from a local dairy with hormone free, grass-fed cows (Apple Valley Creamery), please let me know ASAP. Please ask your neighbors and friends. We need at least 25 customers to create a viable weekly delivery route.