Zeal

Live free-trade or die.

After I awoke this morning on my handmade-cotton-sheeted steel bed built by union workers who are paid livable wages at one of the last factories in the Bay Area, I showered with some biodegradable, animal-cruelty-free soap and shampoo. I slipped on an organically grown cotton shirt and pants before grinding some organic free-trade coffee. I poured it through my paperless coffee filter and into a mug made by a Berkeley artisan, splashed in some organic lactose-free milk, and began mixing a bowl of organic oatmeal, sprinkled with organic brown sugar, organic raisins, and organic free-trade bananas. I then sat down at my plantation-grown hardwood table for some morning-TV-free conversation with my daughter about her upcoming noncompetitive day at a Montessori school.

I then jumped in my Prius and headed to yoga class. At work, which, by the way, is a perfume-free, harassment-free zone, I clicked on my computer and began reading Daily Kos, Wonkette, and the Huffington Post. The radio at my desk is tuned to The Al Franken Show, and I laughed heartily at the zings directed at Republican right-wing religious zealots who are ruining the country we stole from the Native Americans. I then started my workday designing solar panels. For lunch, I brought a free-range turkey sandwich with organic tomatoes.

After work (I have a flex-schedule) I caught a bit of a free class on Zen meditation and breathing techniques at Elephant Pharmacy (which is nonunion, I know, but still better than the big chain stores) before heading over to Berkeley Bowl for some organic vegetables for dinner, which my partner and I plan to cook in our Teflon-free cookware. Over some organic Chardonnay, my partner and I had a nourishing, nonconfrontational discussion about global warming. After we read to our children and taught them some more sign language, I cracked open my latest New Yorker and read how President Bush plans to nuke Iran. I just don’t understand zealots like that. -- Robert Gammon