No hippies allowed?

A couple Saturdays ago, we ate at Jimmy John's for the first time. I noticed this sign on the wall that said "no hippies allowed" (which, if you look it up online, you'll find that the owner really does dislike hippies) and pointed it out to husband. He said something like, "good, I don't want any hippies in here." Then, as I sat there chewing my alfalfa sprouts (really, can a restaurant that serves a sandwich with alfalfa sprouts and avocado spread not want hippies in there? I mean, come on) I thought to myself, "man, I sure share a lot of characteristics with hippies. Maybe I am a hippie."

Aside from eating a sandwich with alfalfa sprouts and avocado spread, we use cloth diapers. I got married with flowers in my hair. In our pantry you will find not just almond butter but carob powder. For dessert I often eat goat milk yogurt with fruit, honey, and flax seed oil. I owned a tie-dyed shirt in high school, when they were far from popular. I own a 1970 VW Squareback, and 23-window deluxe micro-bus is still my dream car. I use castile soap instead of bodywash, I even wash my hair with it. We're following an alternative vaccination schedule. I prefer organic products and products with no scents or dyes (for health reasons more than environmental reasons, though I believe they go hand-in-hand). I am a pacifist. I try to avoid plastics, especially BPA and PVC in food containers. I'd love to live in a commune, though not one like in that movie I watched this weekend, wow. I'm having the hardest time finding 100% cotton unders. Just this week I researched Montessori and "no-poo."

I explained this to Shawn, he said, "well maybe you're a hippie. That's your stuff, I just go along with it."

Photo credit: Contemplative imaging on Flickr