(so shiny and so new....it will never look this good again) Over the past few years, I have found myself more and more drawn to the local food movement. I had some opportunities in my former banking life to work with some local food producers and lobbyists. The now famous book about eating with within 100 Miles of your home opened my eyes to apples from New Zealand in my grocery store. I could not say I have drastically changed my eating habits (unless you could years of yo-yo dieting) but I have drastically changed my awareness.

(sorry vegetarians. and see earlier post on how hard it is to make meat look pretty. gonna ask my future photography instructor about that)  We live in unarguable the most beautiful spot in the country with access to such amazing local food. Why WOULD I buy an apple from New Zealand (I am sure they are lovely apple farmers but that is a looooong boat ride to keep the doctor away)

(Hmmmm yummy, raw ground pork in motion!) I digress. Sausage party. Local food movement. So with my awareness drastically altered, Mr sixtyone45 and I started seeking out local food producers at a leisurely pace (our favorite pace by the way) It just FELT better to know the we were scarfing down was from around here parts.

(it was a really big leg) Oprah says (I can feel Mr. cringing right now) but she really does say and I feel like I should give her credit...that "stuff" comes to you first in whispers, then small taps, then eventually a knock over the head. I feel like the local, slow food movement is something that has been whispering and tapping my shoulder. I have no idea what it could mean yet, but I feel like I should put a pin in it and stick it on my wall.

(two garlic pics in a row...its a fantastic week)The second set of worlds greatest grandparents (The Mr.'s folks) are incredibly inspirational in this space. From wine to sausage to sauces to wine to veggies and fruits and wine.  And then there is the wine. There is not a preservative/additive to be found anywhere in anything. (This is the same fantastic woman who said, why would I need a kettle...I have a pot to boil water)

(I thought you could use a random jelly fish picture)There is very little on their table each night that did not come from their back yard. They eat what's in season, when its in season. Tomato's in December? Not unless they are coming from the cellar in a jar that she canned at harvest time. Oh, and they make their own wine. From grapes. Nothing else. Just grapes. Its strong. Its edgy. Its magical.

(Sample time)   So the taps and whispers come in...my work introduced me to the challenge of local food distribution. My in-laws have incredible gardens and fruit trees and embraced clean and local food a lifetime before it was trendy. I had a child who was born perfect and pure and the thought of putting anything less inside him annoys me (I'm no saint here, Little sixtyone45 has had more than his share of animal crackers and yum-yums)

(not ONE dirty joke in this whole series of sausage making...I think I should get some credit for that) But as I search for some random creative DNA marker in my genome, I know it involves food. Local food. Slow food. Yummy food.  Food prepared with love. (its what I was raised with) I want to keep making that effort to bring all of that to my son.  I know it won't happen all the time, but I am committed to making the effort.

(helloooo big ol' bowl of meat. and I tied these babies...so yea me and maybe don't look too close) Making these sausages made me think...I could bake up a loaf of bread (yes, I really could) go snip lettuce from my garden, make a homemade aoli and serve it to my family for dinner. Just the thought of that makes me happy (for the record what I did here was get my dad to grill them and I squeezed a little French's for some bite...but you get where I'm going.

So THIS is going on my list....

One day this MONTH,  I am going to feed my family local, home made food all day. No additives. No extras. Nothing from Safeway.

I will either make it myself, or source it local and organic. Just typing it makes me happy.

(gma gets photographic credit here) Oh and the sausage party? BEST party ever 'cause it meant getting to spend the day with worlds greatest grandpa.