Humanure

"So are you excited about buying some land and finally settling down?" My husband asked me as we sat at the park watching our boys chase each other down the slides.

I told him,"Yes!" enthusiastically. I'm so tired of moving. Ready to have our own house. Ready to pick where we want to live. Ready to live there forever. Or for a very long time.

As I have mentioned previously, my husband's passion is not medicine. His passion is permaculture. He wants to buy some land on the Eastern side of the United States (Virginia? North Carolina?) and farm. He'll practice medicine. But only enough to afford our home and land. He wants to have as much time as he can to work our land.

"How do you feel about our plan?" he asked me.

The plan to buy the land? Great. The plan to build our house? Fine. I'm really easy. My only request was that we lived within 30 minutes of a Target. Not too out in the boonies. If he wants me to help him farm, I can do that. I'm not a needy woman. All I truly need is for my family to be together and have time together. And to be within 30 minutes of a decent sized city and a Target (or an equivalent that does not start with W and end with mart.)

But JB was getting at something. And I couldn't figure out what. He was asking me too many questions. Skirting around. I couldn't put my finger on it. So I played along.

"You okay with a well?" he asked.
"I am."
"You okay with solar panels?"
"Sure."
"You okay with the hay bale home idea?"
"Sounds fine."
"And a composting toilet? How 'bout that?"

Aaahhhh ... there it is. There's what he was working his way toward. Human composting. Am I okay with that.

I am not a high maintenance woman. But I must draw the line.

No ... I ... am ... not.

But JB was not through with me. As he artistically tried to describe for me the wasting of resources that a septic system and toilet requires, he mentioned something about sawdust, and I glossed over.

My answer was not one I had to think about. The words spilled from the depths of my soul.

"I'm sorry JB. I can get on board with nearly anything. But I cannot get on board with a toilet that does not flush. What will our friends think when they come in our house and need to use the bathroom, and I have to show them how to throw sawdust in the toilet? You aren't going to bring me to your side on that one. Not ever."

His response?

"All right. I'll research more and figure out a way to bring you to my side," he said.

And thus ended the discussion.

Eighteen years together, and I knew better than to convince him he would not. One because he wouldn't believe me. And another because I didn't really believe myself.

My husband has a blog. On permaculture. On resources. Raising food. Preserving rainwater. Waste not. That sort of thing. I don't read his blog frequently. The concepts are too complex. Way beyond me. Confusing. Uninteresting (to me.) But he has a huge following. People are very into what he is doing. I support him. But I don't really care to read about it. Not regularly at least.

Today, I noticed he had left the browser open. So I decided to read the post he had written. No doubt my always-thinking husband did not leave this post open on our computer accidentally. He left it open so as to begin my transformation.

I have no doubt that somewhere down the line he will bring me over to his side. He always does. But I plan to drag my feet for as long as possible. There are very few things he has not eventually won me over on. Eating asparagus is the only one that quickly comes to mind. (I have decided that since I am a grownup I am going to not waver on my loathing of that food.) Anyways, I imagine he will convince me on this as well.

Want to read for yourself? Here his post on poop. Human poop. And the ability to use it for compost: Humanure.

Sigh ... stay tuned.