Nature's Roombas

We have zillions of turkeys around us.

They slowly stalk through the landscape, stopping to peck at anything even remotely edible. They often hang out in large groups, sometimes several dozen but more often ten or so together.

Don was idly watching a flock make its way through our property the other day, and he came away with an observation. "Turkeys are nature's Roombas," he noted. "They cover an entire area, bounce off things, and clean up whatever they find.

Hard to argue. And after my last rant about the Internet of Things, I'd far rather have turkey Roombas around us than robotic ones.

Abandoned mega mansion

I stumbled across an interesting video recently. Apparently an enormous mega-mansion – named the Peter Grant Mansion after its intended owner – was in the process of being built, then abandoned midway through construction after the financial crash of 2008. At 65,000 square feet, the structure is Canada's largest home (or largest ruin).

The person making this video walked through the falling-down building, filming and documenting as he went. Here's the description below the video: "Today, I'm taking a look at one of the world's largest abandoned mansions. It currently stands as Canada's largest mansion at 65,000 square feet and also happens to be completely left to the elements. I'm taking a look at what's left after a devastating financial crash from its former owner and also thoughtfully analyzing the true cost of this staggering, huge home. Last listed for sale at $25 million, there is nothing on the planet like this ultra modern, abandoned mansion."

The house, predictably, was stuffed with every luxurious amenity normally found in mega-mansions: two swimming pools, waterfall, observation lighthouse, small golf course, indoor boat garage, squash court, curved walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, etc.

Since the house is just standing there in a field, open to any miscreants eager to explore the structure and remove anything of value, it's a mess inside. Broken glass, graffiti, damage, destruction ... seeing this kind of vandalism on such a massive scale is crazy.

Walking through the interior is a study in desolation.

Not only is everything vandalized and crumbling, but apparently no efforts were even made to salvage the structure for its component parts. One claim says it would take $1 million to upgrade the structure and make it livable.

To be honest, I had mixed feelings about this video. On one hand, I'm not a fan of conspicuous consumption, and mega-mansions are the epitome of this wasteful trend. On the other hand, there's something extraordinarily sad about the situation. After spending so much time, money, and resources on construction, the building was abandoned when it was 70% complete, so the guy never even had a chance to live in it.

Don and I discussed the video, and he says it reminds him of a poem entitled "Ozymandias":

I met a traveler from an antique land,
Who said – "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert ... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

The gist of this poem is no matter how mighty the structures built by the most powerful of kings, with time even these turn to dust. I can certainly see how this verse applies to an abandoned mega-mansion. "My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"

Watch the video and tell me your thoughts.

The tyranny of convenience

Warning: Rant ahead.

Last summer, a friend was in a position to get a cow. Never having had a bovine before, she was a little panicky and called to pick my brain about what she needed to do.

We talked for quite a while. She kept asking more questions and I gave her what information I had. I don't pretend to know everything about milk cows, but here's the thing: I was amazed at what I did know. The friend got the cow, and it's the start of a beautiful journey toward self-sufficiency as the whole family fell in love with the sweet animal and the milk she gives.

The experience made me realize how far along we've come on this path toward homesteading independence. This leads some people to ask – why? Why are we enamored with doing things ourselves? Why do we bother with cows or chickens or a home dairy or home-grown beef or an extensive garden or canning, when grocery stores are convenient and inexpensive? Why did we embark on such an unconventional lifestyle right after we got married nearly 30 years ago? Why?

Until last year, all I could say is we've always fought against the easy suburban existence that seemed our destiny early in our marriage. But I never knew what pushed us, what drove us to embrace such a rugged do-it-yourself lifestyle, until last year.

That's when I read a brilliant essay in the New York Times by a man named Tim Wu. Entitled "The Tyranny of Convenience," he outlined why "convenience is the most underestimated and least understood force in the world today."

"Convenience has the ability to make other options unthinkable," writes Wu. "Once you have used a washing machine, laundering clothes by hand seems irrational, even if it might be cheaper."

We've always labored to recapture lost skills because of our concern about what I call "the death of knowledge" – how 5000 years of skills have been lost in just the last century due to the tyranny of convenience. We've taught ourselves a lot of stuff, but it wasn't until reading Mr. Wu's essay that I realized we were engaged in a lifelong battle against easy living.

Wu writes:

[W]e err in presuming convenience is always good, for it has a complex relationship with other ideals that we hold dear. Though understood and promoted as an instrument of liberation, convenience has a dark side. With its promise of smooth, effortless efficiency, it threatens to erase the sort of struggles and challenges that help give meaning to life. Created to free us, it can become a constraint on what we are willing to do, and thus in a subtle way it can enslave us. It would be perverse to embrace inconvenience as a general rule. But when we let convenience decide everything, we surrender too much. …

As task after task becomes easier, the growing expectation of convenience exerts a pressure on everything else to be easy or get left behind. We are spoiled by immediacy and become annoyed by tasks that remain at the old level of effort and time. … Today's cult of convenience fails to acknowledge that difficulty is a constitutive feature of human experience. Convenience is all destination and no journey. But climbing a mountain is different from taking the tram to the top, even if you end up at the same place. We are becoming people who care mainly or only about outcomes. We are at risk of making most of our life experiences a series of trolley rides.

So there you have it. For the last 28 years or so, Don and I have blundered along, fighting against convenience, learning how to do things through trial and error, and enjoying every (well, almost every) minute. We raised our kids with this quirky disregard for "normalcy" as well. And in every way except financial, our lives have been immeasurably richer because of it.

"However mundane it seems now, convenience, the great liberator of humankind from labor, was a utopian ideal," writes Wu. "By saving time and eliminating drudgery, it would create the possibility of leisure."

But the great dark unspoken secret of leisure is this: It's boring. It's far better to be busy, especially by working with one's hands. (That's why my personal motto is 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12: "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.")

Wu notes, "The dream of convenience is premised on the nightmare of physical work. But is physical work always a nightmare? Do we really want to be emancipated from all of it?"

No. That's why we stubbornly continue doing things ourselves. We will continue to mutiny against the bounty, to question what's "normal," and shun the tyranny of convenience.

In fact, as convenience in the form of the "Internet of Things" becomes more and more widespread – as people come to depend on smart technology more and more – I'm heading in the opposite direction. I like doing things for myself. I don't want Google to run my life. I'd rather run it myself.

That's why we proudly live in a "dumb" home. Don and I don't need a refrigerator hooked up to the internet. We don't need smart mattress covers communicating activities to a central location. We don't need smart cars that tell us where to go or how to drive. We don't need windows that close when it rains or lower the blinds when it's sunny. We don't need a washing machine that starts remotely. We don't need smart toilets with a built-in Alexa to "set the mood." We don't need lighting that turns itself on or off upon request. We don't need a smart oven that downloads recipes and lets us play games while dinner is cooking. We don't need smart aromatherapy diffusers to make the house smell nice. We don't need smart TVs that take over and perform functions we didn't ask for and don't want. We don't need smart shoes that lace themselves and customize to our feet. We don't need smart phones that spy on every movement, every message, every conversation, every banking transaction and every trip we take.

Above all, we don't need Alexa, whose eerie presence listens in on every conversation (and goes "rogue" once in a while). Did you know there are some 28,000 items that now work with Alexa? That's creepy.

Proponents of "smart" technology praise its advantages which, they say, include "control at your fingertips," safety, accessibility, energy efficiency, cost effectiveness, convenience, comfort, peace of mind, flexibility, security, appliance functionality, "home management insights," resale potential, sustainability, savings, quality of life and less stress.

In the article "The True Benefits of the Smart Home," the author concludes: "You can't buy happiness. We know that. But, more money means less stress, and that's something you can't beat. As cool as it is to tell Alexa to play the latest single from across the room, having more room in your budget is even cooler. And plus, energy-efficient homes put a considerably less amount of strain on the environment, making life better for all of us. So do yourself a favor, start replacing those old appliances with smart, sustainable devices that will actually make you, and the rest of us, a little happier."

Wow, so smart products will save the world! End global warming! Cure the common cold! Eliminate dust bunnies under the bed! And make us "a little happier"! What's not to love?

The implication, of course, is with all these advantages, why would anyone choose NOT to surround themselves with smart products? (The Bible verse "What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?" comes to mind.)

It's obvious what the disadvantages of "smart" technology are. Some recent headlines:

• Your TV is now a computer, but not in a good way: You don't really own it, and it breaks in unpredictable ways. It seems many televisions now come pre-loaded with apps buyers don't want, can't be deleted, and often cause the unit to crash. The frustrated writer notes: "[A]fter you've purchased an internet-connected device of any kind, it begins to generate information that the company can use itself or sell to third parties."
• Apple FaceTime bug lets you listen in on people you call, even if they haven't picked up their iPhone. "There's obviously a big privacy concern here," reported the Technology Product Editor who wrote this article. "You could theoretically call anyone with FaceTime and, using the steps above, listen in on their conversations."
• Now your groceries see you, too: Walgreens is exploring new tech that turns your purchases, your movements, even your gaze, into data. "Walgreens is piloting a new line of 'smart coolers' – fridges equipped with cameras that scan shoppers' faces and make inferences on their age and gender."
• Technology can beam a voice directly into your head. "Scientists have figured out how to use a laser to transmit audio, ranging from music to speech, to a person across a room without any receiver equipment – a potential breakthrough for the future of audio and communication." (Thankfully, as the Organic Prepper snarks, "They'll only use their powers for good.")

Catch the drift here? Over and over and over again, the problems are obvious with "smart" technology: Loss of privacy. Mining of data. Constant surveillance. Even mind control. This is smart?

As Wired put it, "What you're about to lose is your privacy. Actually, it's worse than that. You aren't just going to lose your privacy, you're going to have to watch the very concept of privacy be rewritten under your nose." Homes are getting smarter – and creepier.

I should point out our "dumb" home is perfectly modern and comfortable. We have all the appliances we need to make our lives easy and -- yes -- convenient. The difference is, those appliances don't spy on us and report our data to some third-party source, which then sells those data to advertisers.

Arguably the exception is our two computers; but since we cling to software no more recent than Windows 7, hopefully most of the data mining will bypass us. We also pay in cash whenever possible, don't have smart phones, avoid social media, refuse to save things to the "cloud," and otherwise continue to be irascible and difficult. I figure Google knows enough about me; I don't need to spoon-feed it any more information.

How long before America falls prey to the social rating system currently used in Communist China? Collaboration between the Big Five Big Tech (Amazon, Google, Apple, Microsoft, Facebook) and Big Brother is increasing, and increasingly invasive. Apple chairman Tim Cook bluntly describes the process: "We shouldn't sugarcoat the consequences. This is surveillance."

Technology has its uses – we're thankful an elderly widowed neighbor in poor health has Alexa – but for those of us who are able-bodied, this kind of smart technology is not only invasive and pervasive, but it smacks of the dystopian future featured in the Pixar film Wall-E.

Okay, rant over.

Giga-ridiculous

We interrupt your boring, humdrum lives to bring you a slice of Rich'n'Famous ridiculousness.

Recently Daily Mail UK profiled a "gigamansion" being built in Los Angeles which will have "20 bedrooms, 30 bathrooms, a 30-car garage, a two-story waterfall and a 40-seat home theater." Oh, and don't forget five (five!) swimming pools, "a temperature-controlled room for storing fresh flowers and a sitting room surrounded by jellyfish tanks instead of walls." The price is a trifling $500 million. Half a billion bucks.

Actress Jennifer Aniston, whose humble $21 million log cabin is next door, seems particularly miffed at the massive construction taking place nearly in her backyard.

(Aniston is no slouch in the Rich'n'Famous ridiculousness category. Apparently her husband "admitted that his wife had so many outfits that they had to renovate one part of the garage area into a 2,000 sq ft wardrobe at an estimated $60,000 cost. 'We made an extension on our house. We found more room to sort of create a better bathroom and a closet,' he says.")

Far be it for me to ever find common ground with the likes of Jennifer Aniston, but I do find myself sympathetic in this case. At 100,000 square feet, it's like having a mall built right next door.

I found myself particularly struck by the five swimming pools. Why five? Is there a different pool for each day of the week? For different moods? Why just five? Why not, say, eighteen? Are the potential buyers of this gigamansion such avid swimmers that they require five pools to meet their needs?

These kinds of "gigamansions" are almost comical in that the developers seem to run out of ideas for new luxurious amenities to include, so instead they fall back on building multiples of stuff, like swimming pools. I guess there comes a point -- when the size is off the scale -- that architects just don't know what else to add. "I know -- we'll add another pool and push the house's square footage up another 10,000 feet!"

The developer himself admits most of what he's building is for show. The glass-walled library will have a double-height ceiling and be surrounded on three sides by water, but it's not a place for reading. "Nobody really reads books," the developer says, "so I'm just going to fill the shelves with white books, for looks."

(Bonus question: If "nobody really reads books" anymore, why did you include a library?)

The house is being built on spec. "We have a very specific client in mind," says the developer. "Someone who already has a $100 million yacht and seven houses all over the world, in London and Dubai and whatever. To be able to say that the biggest, most expensive house in the world is here, that will really be good for LA."

GQ Magazine notes something funny about these enormous homes: They're not really homes "in the usual sense of the word. Most buyers live on other continents and visit these properties for only a week or two each year, using them mainly as places to park their wealth." (In other words, it's the world's most expensive hotel.)

As it turns out, there is another gigamansion already built in Los Angeles, this one a paltry $250 million and a modest 38,000 square feet. By gigamansion standards, its amenities are lowly: 12 bedrooms, 21 bathrooms, three kitchens, six bars, a massage room and spa, fitness center, two wine-champagne cellars, two commercial elevators (lined in alligator skin), the "most advanced home theater in any U.S. home," and an 85-foot infinity pool.

Oh, and a candy room. Don't forget the candy room.

It comes pre-furnished with $30 million worth of cars, millions in fine art, and six-figure Roberto Cavalli table settings, thus saving the busy billionaire valuable time and energy in selecting his possessions himself.

Forget owning such a place. I think the very best position to be in would be the live-in staff.

This has been your glimpse into the lifestyle of Rich'n'Famous ridiculousness. You may now return to your regularly scheduled boring, humdrum lives.

The house from hell...

It may come as no surprise to all of you that my childhood fantasies about the Perfect House involved variations on the same theme: something small, rural, cabin-like, cozy, rustic, and simple.

A small farm was usually part of that fantasy.

Thanks to the partnership with my beloved, much of this fantasy has come true. We are quite content on our little farm.

Anyway, this contentment came into focus when I saw an article discussing "smart homes" which boasts, "Your coffee machine, washing machine, heating, and even your garden will all soon be connected to the internet."

Rather than the timeless, patient joys of a cozy house, cherished garden, and farm animals... the article informs us that "The past 12 months have witnessed some remarkable innovations... Yet consumers admit to already being impatient for the next big thing. The honeymoon period for a new gadget is four months, with users confessing that boredom sets in beyond that."

Boredom. After four months.

(Zombie voice): "Need...something...new."

In four months, I can grow an entire garden, and every day there's something new. There's no possible way I want my garden "connected to the internet." Heck, I go to the garden to get AWAY from the internet and other worldly distractions.

But it gets worse. "[A] quarter of consumers claimed they were bored within just four weeks, eager to upgrade as their friends and colleagues got newer phones."

It appears technology is trying to save people from themselves. "[T]here is very much a next big thing coming. That smartphone or tablet is no longer merely a portable window on the web, it’s increasingly the gateway to an internet of things, whereby your coffee machine, washing machine, heating, even your garden, are all connected to the internet... What may sound like a futuristic set-up is approaching faster than anyone anticipated... And your yucca can even inform you, via an app, when it needs watering."

Apparently this worship of technology isn't universal. As one person succinctly commented, "Who, in their right mind, thinks this is a good idea..?"

Technophiles are getting to the point where they're letting technology think for them. You know why encyclopedia sales are in the toilet? Because it's too much work to physically look something up. Instead you punch the request for info into your smart phone and have the world of answers at your fingertips. But has this ability made people wiser? I don't think so.

"Smart" houses are rarely depicted as warm, welcoming environs. They're not places you can cozy up with a friend over a cup of tea. They're always depicted as large, impersonal, cold, sterile spaces with screens everywhere and controls panels on everything, a place where no one dares to put their feet on the coffee table and relax with a book. (Incidentally I don't believe it's an accident that Smart Homes never have cluttered bookshelves in them.) "Smart" people apparently don't read books.

I realize there's a certain amount of irony to rant about technology on a technological marvel called a blog, and I'm certainly not opposed to the judicious use of technology... but the fact remains my childhood fantasies have never died, and an "app" to tell me when my plants need watering seems supremely stoopid. People who need "apps" to water their plants should probably put the stupid smart phones down and check the plants themselves.

I don't want to live in the house from hell. I'd rather have my "un-app'd" life where I do things for myself.

Okay, rant over.