Not so simple. I've been meaning to go to one of the big farmers' markets and find out how much the butchers there know about their goods: was this chicken ever outside? How was it slaughtered? And that requires some prep time with the Russian-English dictionary. And I've been meaning to put more effort into finding milk that hasn't been ultra-zapped; the Finnish stuff is fresher than the Russian, but it's sure not organic. Now it's lunch time, I am not dressed, and I am clicking back and forth between California phthalate awareness websites and Moscow aqua-filter vendors, and worrying about early onset puberty. Turns out the Nestle water cooler bottle next to our sink has a seven on the bottom! Bad news! Maybe it's facing another year here, but today worries that I grappled with and then shelved last fall are resurfacing and demanding another think. It's also partly Nicholas Kristof's fault. I would like very much to sigh and chuckle in a we-all-gotta-go-sometime way, but I'm not really feeling it.
Eventually of course I'll just get hungry, and go get some food.
2 comments:
Sigh. Welcome to my world. I don't even try because I cannot speak enough Russian to find alternatives. Then there is the soot that filters through my windows and collects on the sills . . .
is ignorance bliss? I cant read the labels and hubby and I get into discussions about whether food here is processed more or less than in the US. At least in the US i could read the labels!
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