My birthday is coming up in less than a month.

Since my birthday is in one of the more depressing months of the year (February – the only good thing about it is that it’s short) I’ve never really made a big deal about it.

For my sweet sixteen, I actually moved my party to June. For reals.

I’ve been trying to figure out some useful way of celebrating it this year. I was thinking of getting a new bike – a nice, old-fashioned, european-style thing, with a chain guard and fenders and a little wicker basket. Something to get to the beach in, or for going to get a few groceries. Something pretty, and girly, but quite functional for an urban neighborhood (such as the one I live in).

I would also like to go away for a weekend sometime soon. After being together for five years Liam and I have NEVER been away together alone (other than camping, and vacations with my whole family). So a little trip to Montreal (I’ve never been) or New York (Liam’s never been) would be ideal.

Both of those things are still options at some point in the future, I think, but I have a new more practical idea.

I want a food box.

Glamourous and exotic of me, I know.

I want a organic food box delivered once a week filled with all kinds of healthy and wonderful and seasonal and local things.

We haven’t been able to afford much in the way of organic foods as of yet, and less than worrying about the environmental cost of buying apples from New Zealand, I want to enjoy the intense flavors and unique varietals offered by organic, local, and heirloom farming. I have a pretty refined palette and I know that Organic food, in season, tastes better. It just does.

Specifically, I am falling in love with Foodshare’s Good Food Box, and their rather handsome political stances on poverty and food distribution (the essays on their website practically made me cry). They basically subsidize the food in an economically responsible way so that everyone (from the highest to the lowest income bracket) can afford to eat more veggies – even organic ones. Sounds right up my alley.

But I am worried: if I live in a co-op, wear a black beret, travel by bike and get my organic food delivered in a box – am I dangerously and perilously close to becoming a dirty, pink-o, commie?