Well that’s a dumb question! Your doctor is your doctor, of course!
But what if I told you that the word “doctor” comes from the Latin word meaning “teacher?”
Now, how would you answer the question, “Who is your doctor?”
I only recently learned of this meaning myself. So in my mind I journeyed back through all my doctor visits. On most occasions I left the doctor’s office with a feeling of helplessness and no answers to the simple questions I had. Once, when I was 16 and celibate, I was berated for my choice of no birth control. Another time I saw a doctor about horrendous PMS. I was offered the Pill. That’s it. No education on hormones, imbalances, or endometriosis.
Wait, there isn’t one! Raw milk (almost) never goes bad!
My eighth grade science fair project was to show how processed milk is dead and raw milk is living. Three months before the fair I bought a half g
allon of processed milk from the store. I put it in the fridge along with a half gallon of fresh raw milk from our farm.
So you want to get raw milk for your family but you don’t know the first thing about it. Maybe you are a city gal and have never stepped foot on a farm. Maybe you just moved to a new area. Maybe you just have questions you were never brave enough to ask.
With a few tips from having run a cow share program from my childhood farm, I hope to dash your dairy doubts by the end of this article!
I’m pretty sure my husband was nervous about his clothes for the first few months of our marriage when I kept asking him obvious laundry questions.
It wasn’t that I’d never done laundry in an automatic washer before, it was that I’d never had to do anyone else’s laundry before. I didn’t care about sorting colors and softeners and soil level when I did my own laundry.
You see, growing up we had a wringer washer. Saturday was wash day because all of us kids were home from school to help. Summer was whatever day field work gave us a chance to do laundry.
I know, its not a very popular (nor palatable for some) food. My husband and I enjoy pan fried liver baked in onions and gravy for dinner now and then. People wrinkle their noses in disgust, raise their eyebrows in surprise and question, “Do you really like liver?” Yep, I’m proud to say I do! (Even my super-picky-eater husband likes it…after he picks off the onions…)
Growing up on a farm, we butchered our own cows and ate most every part we could. Pickled cow tongue sandwiches and fried cow brains were the favorites but only provided enough for one meal from each for our family of six. A cow liver provided three or four meals so we could enjoy liver and onions more often