For years now, I’ve wanted to raise pigs. I didn’t want to have a big production or anything, just one or two piggies for the meat. I even went so far as to spend hours talking pig details with our neighbors who butcher pigs every winter and know all things farm related. But my husband wasn’t on board. Pigs schmigs, he scoffed. You forget. I am not a farmer. Eventually, I dropped the subject.

And then one of my husband’s co-workers called him and said, “Hey! I’m on my way back from PA and I have pigs. Want some?”

And my husband was all like, “Whoa! That’s so cool! We should totally get some pigs!”

And I was like, “Huh? Are you saying something? Because there’s this buzzing in my ears.”

About twenty-four hours later, we said yes. And twenty-four hours after that, my husband hauled two pink piggies out of the back of the van.

All the kids were excited, ‘cept for my younger daughter. “I don’t want you to get pigs!” she hollered. “I don’t like meat! We need a new kitten! Wah-wah-wah!”

We’re planning—at this point, at least—to outsource the slaughtering, though the kids (minus the one) and I are lobbying to butcher at least one of the pigs ourselves. “Do it for the kids,” I hiss at my husband. “It’s their education. Just think of all they’ll learn!” So far, he’s remained unmoved. Then again, we have pigs, which is proof enough that there’s reason to hope (and keep badgering).

As is our custom, we’re doing everything backwards and wrong. The pigs are currently (and temporarily) bedded down in the garden, which is very taboo (bacteria-loaded poo and all that), and we don’t have a fence set up for them or easy access to water or anything else needed for raising pigs. But this is how my husband rolls. There must be a pressing need before anything gets done. Lucky us, two pooping squealers in the back yard makes for the best sort of pressing need.

Good thing they were his idea, not mine. I think we’ll be fine.

This same time, years previous: the creative norm, no buffer, and a fast update.

Everyone keeps asking how the show is going. The answer? It’s going great! The cast is sharp, the audiences are lively, and the storyline is funny.

It was special to do the show for my children. I was worried the youngest would get bogged down in the dialogue and have trouble sitting still, but he was totally into the show. Once I caught a glimpse of him leaning forward in his seat, open-faced, smiling, and glowing from the reflected stage lights, completely enraptured. Another time my older son’s face danced across my line of vision. His mouth was spread wide with laughter.

My older son took issue with my Rita character. He thought her too bubbly and happy. “It’s not like you, Mom,” he said. My Iris, on the other hand—you know, the filthy-mouthed, ragey, demented woman—was, according to everyone, much more natural. Thanks, kids. Thanks a lot. As for my husband, he was both disappointed there wasn’t more Iris in the show and slightly worried that Iris was a preview of a future Jennifer. You never know…

My younger son had so many comments and questions afterward. Was the blind woman really blind? Could my “mother” walk in real life? Five wheelchairs! His favorite line involved the f-bomb (of course). A couple days after they saw the show, he and my younger daughter snagged my script and ran upstairs to reenact the play. It was slightly bizarre to hear them shouting, “WHERE THE HELL IS SPANKYPANTS,” in their best Iris imitation.

This is the last weekend to see the show, and tomorrow (Thursday) night is pay what you will. Come, come!!

This same time, years previous: our house, lately and shaking things up.

One rainy day last week, we did abbreviated studies and then spent the remainder of the morning watching Fed Up, a documentary about the food industry and, in particular, our children and the obesity epidemic.

I highly recommend it. The children (just the younger three—my older son was at work) were totally into it. I had to pause the movie multiple times to answer their questions and check their comprehension. (And now I want my husband and son to watch it, too.)

Some key points (as I remember them—don’t quote me!):

*Out of 23 rats who were given the choice of cocaine water or sugar water, 20 chose sugar water. Sugar is addictive. Our culture is addicted to sugar.
*In the same way that we are now appalled at how doctors used to endorse cigarettes, our future selves will be shocked at how we are—right now—so accepting of the sugar industry.
*A third of our population is obese. Another notable percentage is TOFI (thin on the outside, fat on the inside). Together, over half of our population is physically sick.
*Our government does not have our children’s best interests in mind. As they said, “The fox is guarding the hen house.”
*Parents are in charge of their children’s eating habits, yes. But, and especially for school children who are eating cafeteria lunches and exposed to lots of prepackaged snack food, it’s like fighting an uphill battle. Processed junk food is everywhere. Socially and culturally, the odds are stacked against our children. 

*Did you ever notice how nutrition labels don’t list the daily percentages for sugars? Thank the sugar lobbyists for that lack of information. They don’t want us to know and have fought hard for the right to keep us in the dark.
*What is the daily allotment of sugar? According to the movie, it’s ten to twelve grams, or roughly three teaspoons. (Though I’ve read elsewhere that it’s up to 25 grams for an adult.) The point is, we should be eating practically no sugar.

And here’s where I got confused. One cup of whole milk has 11 grams of sugar, and one apple has about 19 grams of sugar, ba-BAM. That’s your daily allowance of sugar, so forget about that small scoop of brown sugar on your morning oatmeal, that half-teaspoon of sugar in your tea, the little puddle of ketchup with your oven fries, the home-canned applesauce, or the raisins with your mixed nuts. A cookie? A muffin? Syrup on a pancake? Jam on toast? No way. You. are. done.

Which doesn’t quite feel fair. I mean, raisins are good for you, right? So are they just talking about added sugars? Perhaps. But they clearly said that sugar is sugar is sugar. There are many, many names for it, but they all—even honey and maple syrup—have the same adverse effects. This gave—gives—me pause. Any way you look at it, we’ve got to cut back.

After watching the movie, I did some obsessing. I hung out in the pantry reading labels. I studied our dinner plates. I fretted and stewed. Sugar is everywhere! It seems so impossible! But now, after a few days of thinking, incorporating, and reevaluating all the information, these are the nuggets I’ve carried with me.

1. I am addicted to sugar.
2. Just say no to Twizzlers!
3. Be enormously leery of packaged foods: crackers, mixes, dressings, yogurts, etc.
4. Buy food in its natural state. Better yet, grow it myself.
5. Beverages are real killers. Drink water.
6. Make my own desserts.

All these things, I knew already. But it was good to sit with the problem for awhile, to examine the facts, to wrestle with the issues, and to scrutinize my habits. Over time, I can grow desensitized to the bigger picture and blind to the little details, becoming the passive consumer that I’m supposed to be. The movie was just the kick I needed.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (3.17.14) and oatmeal pancakes.