Knock Yourself Out Mark Zuckerberg

We watched The Social Network the other night and it got me thinking about a lot of things; namely, Mark Zuckerberg. Before watching the movie, I'd heard a statement that Zuckerberg's goal for the year is to eat only things he kills with his own hands. Huh?

Now we all know by now that I'm a little idealistic when it comes to trying to live locally and sustainably. I love the idea of cracking open a can of my own locally grown canned goods or pulling some local cut of meat out of the freezer. I feel that if we all ate a little closer to home, the world just might be a slightly better place.

But I also live in northern Minnesota, where eating locally means some wild rice, a lot of blueberries, and a bit of meat when you can get it. And there's just only so much venison with blueberry sauce that a 21st century palate can take. While we eat a fair amount of meat which Andy has shot, the majority of the meat we consume at the cabin isn't even organic.

Why? Well, it takes a lot of food to feed two people for an entire year.

The venison Andy got last Novemeber was all gone by April and we only used about a pound of the meat a week. During grouse season, Andy and I went out hunting nearly every night and while we managed to get enough poultry to provide one or two weekly dinners, we never even stockpiled enough grouse to have any in the freezer for "later." Believe it or not, all that's left of last year's blueberries is less than a cup of berries, rattling around in a gallon bag in the back of the freezer. Even what, at the time, can appear to be massive amounts of food can disappear quickly.

Then there's the price issue. In a world where time is money, we can't afford to spend every waking moment scrounging for food. And much as I'd like to eat only organic, that ideology is a little rough on my pocketbook.


Just yesterday I came back from the grocery store with a nominal amount of food in my (reusable) bags and one honking total on my receipt. "That's it," I declared. "No more fresh produce for us." Forget the yummy red strawberries at $3.65 a pound; next week I'm just going to pick up some cans of Flavorite fruit cocktail in lieu of all the (expensive) fresh fruit salad ingredients I picked up yesterday.

Now, I'm not sure what Zuckerberg means when he says he's only eating food he shot with his own hands. Is he counting produce too? Because let me tell you, as Andy and I ran around last night covering up the gardens to protect them from the latest frost advisory, I realized even a little garden can demand more of you than you ever expected.

With his unlimited funds, maybe Zuckerberg is in a better position to succeed at this "with your own hands" eating game. But while I may consistently cry "busy", I have a feeling Zuckerberg has a couple more obligations and commitments than I do.

Mark, if you figure out how to do this: 1) You're a better man than me and 2) Let me know how you did it.  

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Guilt Strikes After A Trip to Half-Price Books

Last week, I wrote about the perception of writing being a passive profession. When I was down in the Twin Cities on my last days off, it occurred to me that writing is also a guilty profession. No matter what you’re doing, from working on a project to buying books, there always seems to be something imperfect about our “writer-ly” approaches. It seems being a “writer” involves carrying around a little bag of neuroses and misconceptions at all times.

It probably comes as no surprise that I’m a fan of bookstores. (Honestly, would you trust me as an English major if I wasn’t? Although to be fair, I generally mistrust anyone who’s not a bookstore fan, regardless of their educational background. . . . ) I may have problems maintaining an appropriate wardrobe, but I have no problem buying books and I resist parting with any of my books, even when I’m fairly sure I’ll never look at some of them again. I have yet to move my books out of my parents’ house (we don’t have the room for them) and sometimes I like to go up to my childhood bedroom to admire all the pretty, multicolored volumes lining my bookshelves, and spilling into the “overflow” shelving of my floor. It’s only when I think of how I’ve bought so many of my books that I start feeling those little twinges of guilt in my belly.

As an aspiring novelist, there’s that teeny little part of me that tells me, really, I should only be buying the hardcover, full-priced versions of the books I want to read. After all, if I have a book published, do I want people to wait until they can buy my book for a penny on Amazon or grab a severely discounted copy at Half-Price Books? Publishing a book in this day and age is no guarantee of fame and it’s certainly no guarantee for fortune. E-books have publishers turned all topsy-turvy and there have been some rather startling reports on just how little money is made when you have a moderately successful book published. Indeed, the monetary success of Harry Potter was an anomaly.  (And remember, how none of us waited until the Harry Potter cost a penny: we all “pre-bought” the latest hardcover version before its release date.)

So how do I explain my presence in Half-Price Books last Wednesday? They say in America you vote with your wallet, which really means I should be strolling through independent books stores and not box stores that start with a “B.” I’ll bet you anything that the big box stores aren’t going to be the ones gambling on a first release from an unknown author if I’m published.

Yet as a voracious reader and someone on the cusp of middle class, I simply don’t have the budget to buy all the books I want to read in a year at full price. And living 55 miles outside of town, I just haven’t gotten the whole library thing work very well for me lately.

So the cheaply bought books accumulate on my shelves. Guilty as I may feel about how I got the books, there’s always one saving grace: at least I’m still reading.

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All Around Locavore

My parents did what they could to raise their children as independent thinkers. We ate mostly vegetarian fare while growing up and we didn’t have a t.v. Consequently, as a teenager, I ate up popular culture like it was going out of style. I loved leafing through teen magazines and looking at all the beautiful photo shoots of beauty products. I started to judge things by their brand name. In college, my penchant for brand names shifted towards something my roommate liked to call “importitis.” While it’s true that my Toyota was probably actually made in the U.S., I do tend to get a little gushy about anything that came from across the pond: especially HobNobs. Mmmm. . . .

Lately, there’s been a lot of talk about what we put in and on our bodies. Every time my book group meets, it seems someone else has read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle or something by Michael Pollan. Today Food Inc. showed up from Netflix. The general consensus seems to be that we should eat locally and seasonally and try to wean ourselves from overlooked luxuries like fresh raspberries in January. Oh, and the petroleum products? Those should go.

With the abundance of blueberries out in the woods and a garden that’s holding its own, it’s easy to catch on to eating locally. But when you live in the woods, internet shopping seems inevitable. And sometimes I worry that a little too much of my hard earned cash goes to little website that starts with an “A” and ends with an “N” and has “dot com” in it. When you’re shopping solely by price tag, there has to be some sort of cost.

So I’m glad to see so many great (pretty) local products that are also environmentally friendly.

Between my little stint as a tourist in my hometown on my last days off and happening to work at place with a gift shop stocked with wonderful locally crafted items, this summer I’m starting to realizing that there are a lot of great local products out there. In this shaky economic time, I’d rather buy something and know that someone nearby directly benefits from the purchase. 

Why buy familiar brand name cleaning products that are filled with all sorts of yucky chemicals when you can pay a little more and use environmentally friendly Mrs. Meyers? (A Minneapolis company and yes, I do realize plenty of box stores are based in the Twin Cities too)

I’m glad there are Minnesota companies, like Sunleaf Naturals, that offer eco-conscious personal hygiene products.

I’m glad for the plethora of local shops in my hometown that offer local gift items.

Am I ready to adopt a 100-mile diet like some locavores? Probably not. But I’m ready to stop settling for what mass-produced products box stores offer and ready to start reading my labels a little more carefully. I’m willing to pay a little bit more. In the long run, I think it’ll be worth it.

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