Crying over shriveled cilantro

My goodness, it has been a crazy 24 hours! The first thing I have to share is completely unrelated to food, weight, organics or anything else of import really, but I can’t keep it to myself. During our red-eye flight back to DC Kevin and I had the, uh, pleasure (read: extreme sarcasm) of sitting behind the smartest hippie in the world. All I have to say is thank God it was an overnight flight, otherwise we would have been forced to listen to him prattle on and on to the woman sitting next to him and every female flight attendant on board for the full 5 1/2 hours. Purely for posterity’s sake, we took a picture of his awesome hairdo to share with the world. It might not be completely clear, but you are looking at a mullet with dread locks. I started calling it a drullet (dreads + mullet), but it just doesn’t have the right ring to it. Suggestions are welcome.

Back to the matter at hand: my poor shriveled cilantro. Right before leaving for Oregon I planted several herbs and left strict instructions that they not be killed in my absence. Unfortunately, I didn’t count on Kevin joining me for the last four days of my trip, so this is what I came home to. I’m already a nervous gardener: the day I planted the herbs it was raining and I must have moved them from outside to inside and back again 3 times; so this doesn’t exactly boost my confidence. Between you and me, I think if this little guy (and his friend parsley over to the left) doesn’t perk up by Monday I’m just going to get a new one and start over. Despite my nervousness, I will also be planting the vegetable garden this week, prayers and/or good vibes are welcome.

Since returning home I’ve taken my first trip to My Organic Market, or MOM’s, to grab a few items and prepare to bake my first loaves of bread this evening. The gravity of my decision to live a less processed food life is beginning to sink in. Not only does EVERYTHING have more than four ingredients, but the prices are notably higher. A half gallon of organic milk from PA (the closest that I could find to VA at this store) was $3.49, that’s pretty close to what I was paying for a full gallon of non-organic mass produced milk before. But my resolve is not shaken, I made a commitment and I intend to stay the course for the next 366 days.

OK, I’ve done what I’m good at for the day (spending money), now time to venture into uncharted territory… I will not burn the bread, I will not burn the bread, I will not burn the bread…