ladyparts

Meanwhile, someone serves Michael Phelps an apple pie

While people are building urban homesteads—reclaiming the lost art of giving children the opportunity to see where carrots come from and why we need butterflies —the country is wishing they were Michael Phelps. I had a dream last night about my cousin getting ready for her wedding. I was wearing pajamas and she delicately formed breasts from chocolate chip cookie dough to wear for her regal debut. Her mother did not understand this, but she felt powerful and coy with her deliciously hidden personal touch. I blame this entirely on Mr. Phelps for the following reasons.


Fuel for Phelps - video powered by Metacafe
There are people who use their status and power to mock the rest of us. At least that’s how it feels to me. “Oh look, I eat all day and I am an olympic athlete, what did you ever do? Bet you wish you could have people pat you on the head and hand you stacks of pancakes! SUCKAS.”

What if he made the food himself, like Kate Ziegler?

A) He wouldn’t need to eat as much because his body would get the nutrients it craves
B) He would be fostering a connection to his body and art
C) He would be an adult
D) He would know what happens “in the meadow at dust,” or the magic of preparing a meal for yourself.

There was a man on NPR this morning talking about getting up at 4 a.m. on saturdays to bake bread, exchanging partying on Friday night for an early morning, as he sees it, act of prayer. He sets out in the silence of those early hours to connect with the impossibility of making something from nothing, using local grains and wild yeasts to nourish the body. The quality of food is all in the love going into it. I almost started crying in the shower while I thought about the devastating juxtaposition, Phelps and this humble man.

Let us make gardens on our windowsills and rooftops and in our yards. Let us cultivate and connect ourselves to each other and what we choose to make ourselves out of. It is important, it is beautiful—it is all we can do.

P.S. If Phelps was a woman in this video, people would think she was gross and wouldn’t give a damn… But that’s a whole different issue. So come and talk about it with us here.

P.P.S. Come ride bikes with us tomorrow to support sustainable stuff in LA, dance and eat salsa made from plants grown in medians, and get tips from local urban homestead gurus.