Work Getting Done

No paying work, but meanwhile there is plenty to accomplish.  It's a wonderful feeling to come home and cross off all the things that have been done from the to-do list.  We were actually on TV a couple of weeks ago, talking for a few seconds about work!

We had mostly talked about our pig classes, blogging, the French recipes, seed saving, the Dudley corn etc, for the interview, so were sort of disappointed that the few words we said about working hard were picked out to be showcased on television to point out to the ignorant masses how insane we are.  I guess it has to be watchable, and there's nothing watchable in presenting people with an opposing lifestyle that is fun and rewarding.

(It is puzzling to me how Americans always do lip service to working hard as a patriotic value, but then sneer at something walking themselves to the corner store or growing your own vegetables because there's some physical work involved.)

And consider how many newscasters (for example) get to eat amazing grassfed steak every night?  There's definitely a work-to-benefit ratio.  Putting on layers of make-up and reading words that don't even reflect reality off a screen on camera sounds like the most awful job to me.  I just couldn't do it, even if I looked fine in photographs and got a decent salary in compensation.  I would much rather be throwing some hay/manure on my garden, or snuggling my face into Matilda's silky flank while I hand-milk us some grass-fed raw cream, butter, yogurt, kefir, and cheese.

Of course it all comes down to personal preference.  Work is not hard work if it is done with love and joy.  What is that lovely line from Kalil Gibran?  "Work is love made visible."

After a long work day yesterday, Ethan and I ended up stuck playing a terrible board game with the girls that evening.  They had begged to play, and even set up the board, but shortly into the game they found they would rather wrestle really close to the game board where dozens of sharp, tiny plastic pieces were precariously set up.

Despite her former enthusiasm, Clothilde was bored, and when she is bored she is BAD (and this is why we intend to homeschool her!).  She spent most of the game throwing herself at the little plastic pine trees where the clues were hidden, throwing the dice like she was pitching a baseball, and trying to do somersaults over the board.  It was more like being her gymnastics coach rather than playing a board game.

Ethan and I agreed afterwards that the board game advertisements in magazines inaccurately represent the reality of family game night.  A realistic photo would depict the parents nearly drooling on the table with fatigue and boredom, and the kids would all be slightly blurry.