Ahhh, sweet tea from a Ball jar.
I've been in Yankeeland for over a month now. Nate and I are doing so well together that I'm still very happy with my decision to move up here. It's starting to feel like home. Though I missed my family at Christmas, Nate and I enjoyed spending Christmas morning here with our cats and dog and then visiting his family in Vermont and New Hampshire.
So far I have not found the stereotype of the rude, pushy Yankee to be true. For the most part, people here are, if anything, overly friendly. I think the better stereotype for the Pioneer Valley in particular would be Liberal Hippie. Let me just paint ya a little picture...
My job hunt isn't going well. At the moment, my most promising opportunity is a possible full time nanny job for a family about 8 minutes down the mountain. While they claim they need in-home childcare, I think what she really wants is a full time housekeeper. Maid. Doer of all things nobody wants to do. Whatever, I need the money.
So after interviewing with the couple, I spent half a day getting to know their two little girls, ages 4 years and 18 months. Everything went fine with the sweet girls. We played and colored and the normal activities. Snack time was a little disturbing. These hippie families don't give their kids regular food. You won't find a Little Debbie or a Capri Sun. These kids don't even know what they are. Mom pulled open the tab on a can of sardines and the 4 year old excitedly gobbled up the whole fish, slurping down the spine and innards like they were candy. Mom constantly shovels supplements, vitamins, drops, and who knows what down their mouths, which the girls take in stride.
If you want to throw something away, you have six options. There are three tubs for various recyclables, a compost bucket, a bag in the freezer for meats that spoil, and then the *gasp* non recyclable waste. This means I stand in the kitchen staring at the garbage in my hand trying to figure out where it goes.
I stayed and had dinner with them (homemade chicken soup full of bones, ugh) and then I did all the dishes. Mom had to go to a meeting so she asked me if I could clean the oven. The chicken she cooked had made a greasy mess. According the fancy oven's handbook, as she pointed out, the only recommended way to clean the baked-on grease was a soft cloth and a mild dish soap. So I went at it with the organic crap everybody insists on using up here (I mean literally EVERY product in hippie houses is organic, green, free trade, fragrance free, dye free, effectiveness free garbage) and a wash cloth. Eighteen hours later, with the oven in virtually the same condition, I gave up and started tidying up the kitchen.
The island in the middle of the kitchen has a fancy shmancy cook top and a little bit of counter space. The counter was cluttered with toys and crumbs so I thought it would show initiative to clean it up. Upon inspection, I found several small bags and purses and a variety of little, carved stone bears. Each bear was sitting on a leather pouch and they were arranged on the counter in a semicircle. I figured the four year old had set them up and I didn't want to upset her by moving them, but there were crumbs all over the counter. Not a clean cooking space. So I carefully lifted each bear, cleaned around it, and put it back. As I was finishing up, Dad hesitantly approached and said that in the future, they will just handle the bears themselves. My first thought was that the little girls were particular about their toys. I must have had a confused look because he explained...
These bears are not, as it turns out, toys. They were hand carved and given to him (probably sold to him) by a medicine man in Pueblo and they hold special powers. The little stones tied to each bear protect the bear, and by association, the person who owns them.
Ok, kind of superstitious but no biggie.
The crumbs, he went on, were actually food that they give the bears. The corn meal is kept in the little purses and they sprinkle it all around the bears and then, at some point, they take what the bears didn't eat and do something intentional with it.
Hmmm.
I tried to appear intrigued. Maybe even inspired. I apologized for the mistake and asked if there was anything else of this nature that I should know about. He pointed to a statue perched in the corner of the kitchen.
The water goddess. He leaves her food offerings in a little bowl. I am not to touch the bowl or the food offerings. He will clean it after doing something intentional with the food.
....um
The South may not be the epicenter of healthy eating and earth consciousness, but I've never wanted to be there more than I did at that moment. I'd have killed for a Swiss Roll and a Diet Coke. Probably wouldn't have even recycled the can. Take that.
No comments:
Post a Comment