My blogging as of late is disgraceful. I think it’s largely due to Moses and my on-going discussion on blogging and privacy. I wouldn’t say we’re at a disagreement: on the contrary, we mostly agree, but we’re not any closer to a resolution. The issue at hand is whether or not we’re comfortable showing our baby on this (admittedly small-knit community of viewers) once she makes her debut.
I’ve mentioned before pregnancy has made me balk a little at the idea of sharing, which is a little unlike me. But I’m finding it hard to say if baby is truly mine to share. What if some day she resents that I posted pictures of her or shared her babyhood? Moses, in the same vein, thinks online images are awfully open…and so very potentially permanent. But is there really any stopping it? And I am really excited—and I love to write and photograph things—and I know there will be no better subject (judging the by volume of Kitty Vivienne pictures I have lurking on my hard drive, the baby’s first year of images is likely to paper a trail to the moon and back), but is it fair?
Fortunately I have a few more months to go back and forth, back and forth. I’m sure I’ll need them.
But in the mean time here are a few pictures from our latest weekend trip. For his first (sort of first?) father’s day, Moses decided we should get away for the day. We’ve become Montauk enthusiasts, but since variety is the spice of life, we opted for a new direction this time. Woodstock. Moses found The Woodstock Animal Sanctuary and we got a zipcar. We brought our sunhats and bought some bagels on the way out of town—and voila, goodbye New York (for the day).
The animals are all farm animals, and mostly refugees from Brooklyn and Manhattan—there was a cow a couple had purchased from a farmer that was taking him for slaughter, lots of very lucky hens and roosters, ducks and a handful of (huge) pigs. There were sheep, and my favorite, goats (they’re really affectionate), and one absolutely terrifying turkey that walked around intimidating people (me) by making this weird sound like a furnace lighting up and getting just a little too close (I ended up running into an air conditioning unit to try to get away from him/her, bruising my arm).
But, despite some of the very sad stories and a lot of serious talks about animal rights (no matter how much I do I know I could always do more) we had a great time. It was wide open and beautiful, and we bought some fresh jam and had some delicious juice, and even though our tour guide worked her hardest to convert my meat-eating significant-other, his last father’s day request was…you guessed it: BBQ in Harlem at Dinosaur BBQ on the way back into the city. Sometimes the gap between the guided tour and the dinner table seems like a very long way.