Hello Greeen Sheeepers. I have kidnapped this blog out of sheer desperation. I am concerned about my wife. You see, her behavior has changed dramatically in the last few years. The woman who was once an animal eating, SUV driving "normal" person has turned into something else. She says she has gone "green". I believe it is something more sinister. Something so dark and so disturbing that I am fearful of even talking to you about here on these electronic pages. The boundless love for my wife pushes me on however. Dear readers, be warned. Look long and hard into your souls and consider your own fate before deciding to read further. The evil forces at work may look in your direction next.
I do not believe my wife has gone green...I believe she has gone...Amish.
That's right. She has fallen victim to Mennonite Mendunugu magic!
Before you dismiss me as a crazy, insane, mad, demented, deranged, unbalanced, unhinged, mental, dotty, crack-brained, out to lunch, bananas, cuckoo, dippy, batty, daffy, loony, absurd, foolish, nonsensical, inane, ridiculous, preposterous, laughable, ludicrous, asinine, stupid, harebrained, out to lunch screw ball hater of the plain people who's cheese has slipped off their cracker, nut job, let me present my evidence:
Just a few short years ago, this was my wife. A snowmobile racing, demolition derby driving, environment killer. (Damn I loved that)! Then one shadowy day things changed.
She announced that she would no longer be using any chemicals in the house for cleaning. I found this rather odd. She explained that they were harmful to your health. I rebutted as any good Republican would that large corporations would not harm people just to make a few billion dollars. This had no effect. (The Amish infection had already taken hold). So what will we be cleaning with? She proudly proclaimed that we would only be using vinegar! I was confused, but seeing the proverbial writing on the wall agreed. (But only after she explained how much money it would save us). Every day since, I come home to a house that smells like someone just got done canning pickles.
That is a great segue to my next piece of proof. Soon she is turning the back yard into an organic garden. (Again with the whole no-chemical business). And what are we going to do with all of this bounty of nature? Can it of course. Well at least if the house is going to smell like pickles, I may actually get to eat one. A garden needs fertilizer. So naturally a compost pile was next to rear it's egg shell and banana peel encrusted head.
The no chemical illness next manifested itself in the form of aversion to known bodily hygiene products. Suddenly deodorant, soaps, and shampoos were replaced by A Dr. Bronner and his "magic" hemp oil elixir. Even shaving cream became a victim of the good doctor. Next the razors themselves fell prey. Exchanged for some archaic metal contraption that appears to eat the blade. It wasn't long before deodorant fell under her scrutiny. Good bye Secret and your powder fresh scent, hello Arm and Hammer and your...powder. And if you don't think it could get any weirder than that...it did. She may not enjoy me sharing this with you, but I will anyway. She started making her own "feminine hygiene products" out of felt or something...I don't know...they are purple and kind of fuzzy. I try not to touch them.
The move to Amishness started speeding up as the summer grew hotter. The Maytag Neptune dryer that was once her prized possession was now an object of wasteful disdain. Our clothes now dried non-pollutingly in the wind like sun dried nuts. And were nearly as crunchy. But summer drew to an end as it has an annoying habit of doing. The clothes had to move to new accommodations in the basement. If she gets her Christmas gift request they will be joined there by a worm composter. One can only dream.
As the cold Wisconsin winter settled in, the old fuel oil furnace in the basement came to the chopping block. Lacking the funds to replace it with a geothermal unit the only course of action was to turn the thermostat down to 55 degrees. If we had a fireplace, I can assure you I would be getting real familiar with an axe.
As winter begins its slow retreat we start to dream of spring. While most peoples heads are filled with visions of beaches and boats. My newly Amish wife can only think of replacing my riding lawn mower with a goat.
All electrical appliances are now plugged into power strips that must be shut off when said appliance is not being used. Curtains are opened and lights are not turned on during the day. I know in the deepest regions of my heart that the day is not far off when the electricity is gone forever.
I was finally compelled to face this evil menace when I discovered her making butter in the kitchen. She was using a Kitchen Aid mixer, but the vision of her not behind the wheel of a derby car but behind a butter churn was disturbingly easy to conjure. Do not fail to head this warning. The threat is real. Don't let hard work and polite manners of the Amish fool you. They exist only to lure in new members under a green guise.
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