Waiting for Thoreau

I haven’t fallen off the face of the Earth. I’ve wanted to, a couple of times, but I haven’t. Christmas has been packed away; school has started back up. I managed the Jingle Bell 5k and then the First Night 5k when it was a balmy 62 degrees. One cow has been dried off and the other is going to every other day milking starting tomorrow.

So, it’s been busy, in a normal, wintry kind of way.

I had decided my New Year’s Resolution would be that this would be the year I could quit. Everything. I wanted to stop running. I don’t like it. I planned to stop the detox diet I started the end of December (probably not such a smart thing to take up during the dark days of December). I wanted to quit knitting because I keep making mistakes I have to rip out. I wanted to stop blogging.

Notice the past tense. Notice the blog post.

I’m still running. I still don’t like it, but I can run longer than I’ve ever been able to run in my life. I’ve added swimming to my workout. John fixed my cyclocross bike’s brakes and dusted off the bike trainer – a skimpy set of three rollers that scares the bejeezus out of me, but I’m going to have to suck it up and learn how to balance on the damn thing. I want to do a sprint triathlon this spring.

The detox diet ends Thursday. I will have managed three weeks without caffeine, alcohol, flour, or sugar. I’ve juiced my own grapefruit and carrots for breakfast; munched on endless spinach salads with a variety of homemade vinaigrettes; and I’ve whipped up a smoothie every night for dinner. I’ve lost six pounds.

I whiled away the time I didn’t spent cooking by planning decadent menus for Super Bowl Sunday, Valentine’s Day, and Mardi Gras. I bought a doughnut cookbook.

The sleeves have been attached to the body of the sweater, and I’m working my way up the yoke. The hard part is over and the fun begins. Let’s just hope I’ve got the arms attached evenly on both sides.

A hundred years ago 90 percent of the country’s population was rural. Today, 90 percent of our population is urban. People don’t know where their food comes from. People think living in the country is pastoral and idyllic. Some days it is. Some days, not so much.

I think it’s important that someone record that delicate balance farm people walk while juggling 21st century reality with 19th century responsibilities.

So, I plan to keep recording, running, and knitting.

This weekend, though, I’m making doughnuts.