Brent and LeAnna raise two kiddies. LeAnna blogs about that here.
They also write a regular column at Grit: Rural American Know-How. You can catch up on gardening, homemade butter, living without Target, and a healthy dose of Ella and Mabel too.
This is from Brent's most recent post entitled The Manly Art of Knitting:
My wife, LeAnna and I have been thinking a lot lately about work. We’ve been wondering if perhaps we’ve been mis-educated to believe that avoidance of manual labor is the pinnacle of education and evolution – that to prove that we’ve arrived in the world, we should work with our heads and not our hands. What we’re wondering is whether that system has steered us wrong, disconnecting us not even so much from our heritage, but from some essential part of who we are as people. That as people, we were made to create. That on some level people were meant to work for their food. And that, similarly, part of our care not just for ourselves but for each other involves a physical act of creating. In my Eastern European family, that often involves cooking food for each other – and, of course, applying a liberal dose of guilt until the person eats it.
And there you have it. It's the act of creating. Such a simple statement, and so viscerally true to me.
You all know my snark, and that vanity is, at least in some part, responsible for the pictures and the posting (come on, see what I did...).
But behind all that is certainly a sense that in a world where I am working almost exclusively with my head, the hobby to which I gravitate involves using my hands, and my nose, and my tastebuds, and my eyes, and even my ears (no more sizzle in the pan, your veg has lost all its moisture). Moreover, it becomes something to which I devote a great deal of energy because I truly feel like I get something out of it. Not monetary or even complimentary.
I honestly feel better and feel better about myself if I get to spend time with my knife, pots/pans, pantry, and cookbooks...with a healthy dose of my friends and family before, during, and after the cooking.
So I'll go home and cook something for dinner tonight and be a tad sad that Chez has an evening gig tonight, Ms. Bethie has an already-rescheduled-once dinner date with some other pals, and Ms. KristaK has to pack for her well-deserved and needed vacation this weekend.
If a small amount of snark is permitted again, this just means that Greco and Pearl will eat very well tonight since I'll have no reason to stay at home and every intention of making a 9x13 8-egg version instead of the 8x8 4-egg small apartment size.
I don't knit, Brent; but I like the way you think.