Monday, February 18, 2008

playtime.


How did it happen that, "I'll get it to you by Friday," turned into Saturday at 11, turned into Saturday night, turned into Sunday morning, turned into 12:30 a.m. on Sunday night/Monday morning?

Let's just say it happened. And that I work better under pressure.

Today, the editor sent the story back to me - he had managed to cut out 500 words and needed me to get it down another 600. Blah. I managed to make it work. I think I managed to cover the big issues surrounding the food we eat in a way that is very much about local farmers and farming practices. I was even able to touch upon the migrant workers without judgment or accusations, but in a manner that simply raises questions, and more importantly awareness.

I could not be more pleased with my article.

And, no, that chicken was not the chicken I ate. The brown chickens are egg layers, and the white ones (at the farm I visited) are used for poultry. But I'll say that I ate my chicken joyfully. My intricate knowledge of how it had been raised, what it had been fed, and the fact that a couple who lost everything in Hurricane Katrina are the people whose livelihoods I was helping support - as they were helping nourish me - made me feel deeply connected to an amazing symbiotic cycle. And it was the best tasting chicken I've ever had.

Joy, joy, joy. Now I'm going for a swim.

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