Tease tease tease!
Monday, September 6, 2010
Happy birthday to me
Here's a teaser for you. Today is my birthday. Last Friday I received some wonderful news which made for a superb early birthday present. I'm not at liberty quite yet to pass on what that wonderful news is - but be sure I'll post it here as soon as I can!
Tease tease tease!
Tease tease tease!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
More unanswered questions
Catching up on additional unanswered questions:
How is your book selling?
When is Don gonna write one?
Have you finished the 'sheet curtains?'
The book (that would be The Home Craft Business) is selling modestly but steadily. No complaints.
Don's been flirting with writing a book for years. He's such a blinkin' good writer! But he's so busy with other things that it hasn't happened yet.
The sheet curtains were actually made several years ago, LOL. Still in use, I might add.
Other questions:
When it comes to groceries, what, if anything, do you have to purchase? Or do you make absolutely everything from scratch?
Also, is there anything you miss about living in an urban area? And what do your parents/siblings think about the way you guys live? Are they preparedness-types too, or do they think it's strange?
Groceries: Oh goodness, we still buy lots. Becoming self-sufficient is a whole lot easier said than done. We have meat, dairy, and eggs pretty well down pat. But surprisingly, vegetables and fruits have been the hardest to conquer up here. We would have done much better on the garden this year if the weather had cooperated and the tractor hadn't died (it's still dead). We lost two of our fruit trees, probably because the roots hit this impenetrable layer of clay we have a few feet down. Next year we're going to take the wise advice someone posted on this blog and build above-ground boxes for fruit trees. We'll also get our raised beds in for strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. We will be planting wheat this fall, too. (Don't worry, I'll blog about it.)
As far as making everything from scratch - well, we try. We buy nearly everything in bulk and try to avoid prepared stuff.
Is there anything we miss about making a living in an urban area? No.
What do our parents/siblings think about our lifestyle? Well, after twenty years they've come to accept that we're endearingly eccentric. Nuff said. Are they preparedness types? Not in the slightest. Both our families are high on our list of folks we'll take in if bleep happens. I'll add, that's a lotta people.
How is your book selling?
When is Don gonna write one?
Have you finished the 'sheet curtains?'
The book (that would be The Home Craft Business) is selling modestly but steadily. No complaints.
Don's been flirting with writing a book for years. He's such a blinkin' good writer! But he's so busy with other things that it hasn't happened yet.
The sheet curtains were actually made several years ago, LOL. Still in use, I might add.
Other questions:
When it comes to groceries, what, if anything, do you have to purchase? Or do you make absolutely everything from scratch?
Also, is there anything you miss about living in an urban area? And what do your parents/siblings think about the way you guys live? Are they preparedness-types too, or do they think it's strange?
Groceries: Oh goodness, we still buy lots. Becoming self-sufficient is a whole lot easier said than done. We have meat, dairy, and eggs pretty well down pat. But surprisingly, vegetables and fruits have been the hardest to conquer up here. We would have done much better on the garden this year if the weather had cooperated and the tractor hadn't died (it's still dead). We lost two of our fruit trees, probably because the roots hit this impenetrable layer of clay we have a few feet down. Next year we're going to take the wise advice someone posted on this blog and build above-ground boxes for fruit trees. We'll also get our raised beds in for strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. We will be planting wheat this fall, too. (Don't worry, I'll blog about it.)
As far as making everything from scratch - well, we try. We buy nearly everything in bulk and try to avoid prepared stuff.
Is there anything we miss about making a living in an urban area? No.
What do our parents/siblings think about our lifestyle? Well, after twenty years they've come to accept that we're endearingly eccentric. Nuff said. Are they preparedness types? Not in the slightest. Both our families are high on our list of folks we'll take in if bleep happens. I'll add, that's a lotta people.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Don't come a-knockin at my door
Recently I received a request from someone wanting me to mention his website on my blog. This is a fairly common occurrence, so as usual my husband and I vetted the website to make sure it was appropriate.
What we found was startling. This person had the most astoundingly good idea, executed in the most astoundingly bad way.
Essentially the deal is this. The website hooks up urban “preppers” with rural counterparts so, if the bleep ever hits the fan, the urban refugees have a pre-arranged place to go.
Sounds real spiffy, doesn’t it? Except here’s the thing: unless it's stated someplace I haven't looked on this website, the urban refugees have to do nothing beyond making these arrangements with their rural counterparts. The burden of food, water, medicine, protection, housing, and other issues falls squarely on the shoulders of the rural residents. In other words, the rural folks do all the work. Sounds suspiciously like ants and grasshoppers.
I can think of a hundred and one reasons why this isn’t a good idea, all of them detrimental to the country people who would be expected to cooperate by taking in what could well be a swell of refugees.
Why a swell? Well, picture this: the bleep has hit the fan and the urban refugee – we’ll call him Charlie – prepares to evacuate to, um, Bob’s farm. Charlie gathers up his wife and children. But wait! His cousin Marty and his wife and four kids live down the block! Charlie can hardly leave them behind. So he gets Marty to come along too. But Marty’s sister-in-law Jane, who is single and has two kids, can hardly be left behind either. No problem, bring ’em along. And Jane begs to bring her elderly mother since, after all, she can’t leave the dear lady behind.
Before you know it, Charlie has amassed fifty or sixty dearly loved and very scared people. Through harrowing adventures they finally make it, breathless, exhausted, hungry, perhaps injured, to poor unsuspecting Bob’s farm in the middle of nowhere.
What can Bob do? He can hardly turn them away since, after all, he agreed to take Charlie and his family in. (I’m being optimistic here. Bob certainly can turn them away, the cad. But let’s assume he doesn’t, for the sake of argument.)
Suddenly, with fifty extra mouths to feed, the year’s supply of food Bob had painstakingly amassed is cut down to a mere week. Sleeping accommodations are shoulder to shoulder across every available floor space. The septic tank, unused to an influx of so many new people, clogs and fills and backwashes. Bob has to get used to a bunch of strangers in his private home.
See the problem?
I can’t blame Charlie, of course. Who wouldn’t grab the chance to save your beloved friends and family members since Bob is nice enough to sign up for this deal in the first place? It’s just human nature to do anything to survive a bad situation, and Charlie will naturally hope Bob is willing to take in anyone, as long as Charlie vouches for them.
Make no mistake – I applaud the concept behind this website, which has the intention of saving the lives of urban people. There are few things nobler than working to save lives. But, in effect, this removes much of the burden of contingency plans and preparedness from the hands of the urbanites and places it, to an unfair degree, on the shoulders of the ruralites. Why someone would think that rural types would be thrilled to welcome complete strangers is beyond me, but let’s work with that assumption as well, for a moment.
It is almost guaranteed that any urban refugees would be arriving with little more than the clothes on their backs. They’re refugees, after all. They are unlikely to bring a significant amount of supplies, food, water, garden seeds, livestock, canning jars, medical supplies, kerosene lamps, and few if any munitions. Not to sound harsh and unfeeling here, but unless there are pre-existing ties of love or affection or blood, how much of a burden will these refugees be to the host family under survival conditions?
Here’s the thing that seems to get lost, too. Virtually all rural folks who are “prepping” – at least every single person I know – already has an extensive laundry list of beloved friends and relatives they will take in if the bleep hits the fan. I doubt there will be many ruralites who would be willing to take in additional people – strangers, no less – by signing up with this website. Stores of food and other essentials will be stretched thin enough as it is. We ruralites will be unlikely to turn away beloved friends and family members, but we’re equally unlikely to welcome complete strangers with nothing to offer. Sorry to sound harsh, but none of us has inexhaustible resources.
Along with this pre-made list of friends and family the ruralites already plan to take in, most ruralites also have in place (or should have in place) food and supplies to donate to charity cases. In other words, if a stranger named Charlie came begging at Bob’s door, desperate for food or medicine, Bob would very likely be able to alleviate Charlie’s immediate needs even though Bob may not invite Charlie to live with him. Most rural preppers, in addition to stockpiling resources for their own families and friends, are stockpiling a little extra to give away to those in need. We are not heartless, but nor do we have inexhaustible resources. Most of us are in a lower economic bracket simply by living where and how we do. We can’t afford to feed everybody.
There’s also the problem of living with people. It’s tough enough getting along with people we know and love. How do we know we’re going to get along with people about whom we know nothing beyond reading an internet profile and emailing back and forth a few times? We have no idea what they’re like, and we’re inviting them into our home to live with us through the most dire and stressful of circumstances? NOT!
Yet another problem – possibly the biggest – with this website hooking up urbanites and their rural counterparts is the notion of “OpSec.” OpSec, for those unfamiliar with the term, stands for “Operational Security.” It refers to keeping one’s (cough) “hoard” of preparedness supplies secret so as to avoid being besieged by the “Golden Horde” of urban refugees ravaging and pillaging across the countryside post-bleep. (“Hey Charlie, where are you going?” “I’m bugging out with my family. Want to come, too?” “Sure!” And before you know it, there’s a “Golden Horde” of urban refugees following the yellow brick road to their own personal Oz…namely, the homes of rural preppers.)
Incidentally, many folks have expressed concern that I’m so outspoken and obvious about our prepping. They’re right – I’m using my real name and have made no secret about our concerns for the future of our economy. We who have chosen to publicly inform people of the coming dangers recognize that our operational security is therefore compromised. That’s our choice, based upon what we believe our God-given calling is. But because it’s too late to “hide” or start using an alias, we’ve decided to use whatever modest influence we have to urge people to stop denying the social and economic troubles that are looming, and become preppers too. As for placing ourselves at risk post-bleep… well, we’ll see. After all, OpSec means not letting everyone know everything.
So what’s to be done about the very real problem of urbanites being trapped in cities during times of strife? What if they want to bug out to rural locations? This is a dicey issue worth examining. Here are a few ideas.
1. If you want to escape from the city, make your own private plans and do not broadcast them to every Tom, Dick, or Harry of your acquaintance. Send supplies ahead of you. Send lots of supplies ahead of you, well before the bleep hits the fan.
2. Make yourself valuable. I know a wonderful man who is a fine theater actor. But he himself admits acting is his only skill. What advantage would he be at a rural retreat during times of extreme strife? Answer: very little. Whereas your average doctor would almost certainly never be denied refuge. See my point?
We – meaning, those of us prepping in rural areas – will be more likely to take in those with useful skills. If your most useful skill is shopping or meditation or social activism, don’t expect us to be thrilled to invite you into our prepped home because, frankly, you’d be useless. But if you have practical skills – medicine or defense or mechanics or food preservation or animal husbandry or veterinarian skills or something similarly needed – you’re far more likely to find an open door. So start learning something practical NOW.
3. Prepare the way. If you’ve arranged a private refuge in advance, one thing that will guarantee welcome is for you to help fund an expensive project that might otherwise be out of reach for a rural family (because most rural families are low-income and often can’t afford fancy improvements). Perhaps you could pitch in to buy a windmill for the well, or install a solar array, or help build an underground bunker.
4. Do things contractually. If/when the bleep hits the fan, folks (urban and rural) are likely to a lot more hysterical than normal. Having your plans in writing ahead of time clarifies all the obligations, expectations, and limitations between the two parties (i.e., you’re not allowed to show up with fifty extra people in tow). This contract can also include what the urban person can and cannot bring. Pets should be included in this list. If the rural refuge is not prepared to handle your yappy Pomeranian because he has three aggressive German Shepherds, you need to know that in advance.
5. Don’t lie about your skills or abilities. If you state with confidence that you’re an expert at hunting and butchering – but have never held a rifle or dispatched a steer – that will be discovered soon enough. Learn those skills first before you claim knowledge. Duh.
6. Get used to hard physical labor. Those of us living on farms and homesteads already work our tails off, and even so we often have crop or livestock failures due to circumstances beyond our control. If you’re not willing to work your butts off, don’t come knocking at our door.
So how do my recommendations differ from the efforts of this website to hook up urban and rural folks to provide refuge? Perhaps they don’t. Maybe this website just needs to better clarify the obligations of all parties involved. But I do know that, as a rural prepper, the idea of signing up on a public website to voluntarily provide refuge to strangers strikes me as foolish to the point of idiocy. I, for one, wouldn’t sign up for something like this in a gazillion years because it opens a Pandora’s box of trouble. And I’m saying this as an already public prepper with my OpSec already blown.
If this website maintains its current format, I foresee a slew of enthusiasm from urban folks and a significant reluctance from country folks.
My $0.02.
What we found was startling. This person had the most astoundingly good idea, executed in the most astoundingly bad way.
Essentially the deal is this. The website hooks up urban “preppers” with rural counterparts so, if the bleep ever hits the fan, the urban refugees have a pre-arranged place to go.
Sounds real spiffy, doesn’t it? Except here’s the thing: unless it's stated someplace I haven't looked on this website, the urban refugees have to do nothing beyond making these arrangements with their rural counterparts. The burden of food, water, medicine, protection, housing, and other issues falls squarely on the shoulders of the rural residents. In other words, the rural folks do all the work. Sounds suspiciously like ants and grasshoppers.
I can think of a hundred and one reasons why this isn’t a good idea, all of them detrimental to the country people who would be expected to cooperate by taking in what could well be a swell of refugees.
Why a swell? Well, picture this: the bleep has hit the fan and the urban refugee – we’ll call him Charlie – prepares to evacuate to, um, Bob’s farm. Charlie gathers up his wife and children. But wait! His cousin Marty and his wife and four kids live down the block! Charlie can hardly leave them behind. So he gets Marty to come along too. But Marty’s sister-in-law Jane, who is single and has two kids, can hardly be left behind either. No problem, bring ’em along. And Jane begs to bring her elderly mother since, after all, she can’t leave the dear lady behind.
Before you know it, Charlie has amassed fifty or sixty dearly loved and very scared people. Through harrowing adventures they finally make it, breathless, exhausted, hungry, perhaps injured, to poor unsuspecting Bob’s farm in the middle of nowhere.
What can Bob do? He can hardly turn them away since, after all, he agreed to take Charlie and his family in. (I’m being optimistic here. Bob certainly can turn them away, the cad. But let’s assume he doesn’t, for the sake of argument.)
Suddenly, with fifty extra mouths to feed, the year’s supply of food Bob had painstakingly amassed is cut down to a mere week. Sleeping accommodations are shoulder to shoulder across every available floor space. The septic tank, unused to an influx of so many new people, clogs and fills and backwashes. Bob has to get used to a bunch of strangers in his private home.
See the problem?
I can’t blame Charlie, of course. Who wouldn’t grab the chance to save your beloved friends and family members since Bob is nice enough to sign up for this deal in the first place? It’s just human nature to do anything to survive a bad situation, and Charlie will naturally hope Bob is willing to take in anyone, as long as Charlie vouches for them.
Make no mistake – I applaud the concept behind this website, which has the intention of saving the lives of urban people. There are few things nobler than working to save lives. But, in effect, this removes much of the burden of contingency plans and preparedness from the hands of the urbanites and places it, to an unfair degree, on the shoulders of the ruralites. Why someone would think that rural types would be thrilled to welcome complete strangers is beyond me, but let’s work with that assumption as well, for a moment.
It is almost guaranteed that any urban refugees would be arriving with little more than the clothes on their backs. They’re refugees, after all. They are unlikely to bring a significant amount of supplies, food, water, garden seeds, livestock, canning jars, medical supplies, kerosene lamps, and few if any munitions. Not to sound harsh and unfeeling here, but unless there are pre-existing ties of love or affection or blood, how much of a burden will these refugees be to the host family under survival conditions?
Here’s the thing that seems to get lost, too. Virtually all rural folks who are “prepping” – at least every single person I know – already has an extensive laundry list of beloved friends and relatives they will take in if the bleep hits the fan. I doubt there will be many ruralites who would be willing to take in additional people – strangers, no less – by signing up with this website. Stores of food and other essentials will be stretched thin enough as it is. We ruralites will be unlikely to turn away beloved friends and family members, but we’re equally unlikely to welcome complete strangers with nothing to offer. Sorry to sound harsh, but none of us has inexhaustible resources.
Along with this pre-made list of friends and family the ruralites already plan to take in, most ruralites also have in place (or should have in place) food and supplies to donate to charity cases. In other words, if a stranger named Charlie came begging at Bob’s door, desperate for food or medicine, Bob would very likely be able to alleviate Charlie’s immediate needs even though Bob may not invite Charlie to live with him. Most rural preppers, in addition to stockpiling resources for their own families and friends, are stockpiling a little extra to give away to those in need. We are not heartless, but nor do we have inexhaustible resources. Most of us are in a lower economic bracket simply by living where and how we do. We can’t afford to feed everybody.
There’s also the problem of living with people. It’s tough enough getting along with people we know and love. How do we know we’re going to get along with people about whom we know nothing beyond reading an internet profile and emailing back and forth a few times? We have no idea what they’re like, and we’re inviting them into our home to live with us through the most dire and stressful of circumstances? NOT!
Yet another problem – possibly the biggest – with this website hooking up urbanites and their rural counterparts is the notion of “OpSec.” OpSec, for those unfamiliar with the term, stands for “Operational Security.” It refers to keeping one’s (cough) “hoard” of preparedness supplies secret so as to avoid being besieged by the “Golden Horde” of urban refugees ravaging and pillaging across the countryside post-bleep. (“Hey Charlie, where are you going?” “I’m bugging out with my family. Want to come, too?” “Sure!” And before you know it, there’s a “Golden Horde” of urban refugees following the yellow brick road to their own personal Oz…namely, the homes of rural preppers.)
Incidentally, many folks have expressed concern that I’m so outspoken and obvious about our prepping. They’re right – I’m using my real name and have made no secret about our concerns for the future of our economy. We who have chosen to publicly inform people of the coming dangers recognize that our operational security is therefore compromised. That’s our choice, based upon what we believe our God-given calling is. But because it’s too late to “hide” or start using an alias, we’ve decided to use whatever modest influence we have to urge people to stop denying the social and economic troubles that are looming, and become preppers too. As for placing ourselves at risk post-bleep… well, we’ll see. After all, OpSec means not letting everyone know everything.
So what’s to be done about the very real problem of urbanites being trapped in cities during times of strife? What if they want to bug out to rural locations? This is a dicey issue worth examining. Here are a few ideas.
1. If you want to escape from the city, make your own private plans and do not broadcast them to every Tom, Dick, or Harry of your acquaintance. Send supplies ahead of you. Send lots of supplies ahead of you, well before the bleep hits the fan.
2. Make yourself valuable. I know a wonderful man who is a fine theater actor. But he himself admits acting is his only skill. What advantage would he be at a rural retreat during times of extreme strife? Answer: very little. Whereas your average doctor would almost certainly never be denied refuge. See my point?
We – meaning, those of us prepping in rural areas – will be more likely to take in those with useful skills. If your most useful skill is shopping or meditation or social activism, don’t expect us to be thrilled to invite you into our prepped home because, frankly, you’d be useless. But if you have practical skills – medicine or defense or mechanics or food preservation or animal husbandry or veterinarian skills or something similarly needed – you’re far more likely to find an open door. So start learning something practical NOW.
3. Prepare the way. If you’ve arranged a private refuge in advance, one thing that will guarantee welcome is for you to help fund an expensive project that might otherwise be out of reach for a rural family (because most rural families are low-income and often can’t afford fancy improvements). Perhaps you could pitch in to buy a windmill for the well, or install a solar array, or help build an underground bunker.
4. Do things contractually. If/when the bleep hits the fan, folks (urban and rural) are likely to a lot more hysterical than normal. Having your plans in writing ahead of time clarifies all the obligations, expectations, and limitations between the two parties (i.e., you’re not allowed to show up with fifty extra people in tow). This contract can also include what the urban person can and cannot bring. Pets should be included in this list. If the rural refuge is not prepared to handle your yappy Pomeranian because he has three aggressive German Shepherds, you need to know that in advance.
5. Don’t lie about your skills or abilities. If you state with confidence that you’re an expert at hunting and butchering – but have never held a rifle or dispatched a steer – that will be discovered soon enough. Learn those skills first before you claim knowledge. Duh.
6. Get used to hard physical labor. Those of us living on farms and homesteads already work our tails off, and even so we often have crop or livestock failures due to circumstances beyond our control. If you’re not willing to work your butts off, don’t come knocking at our door.
So how do my recommendations differ from the efforts of this website to hook up urban and rural folks to provide refuge? Perhaps they don’t. Maybe this website just needs to better clarify the obligations of all parties involved. But I do know that, as a rural prepper, the idea of signing up on a public website to voluntarily provide refuge to strangers strikes me as foolish to the point of idiocy. I, for one, wouldn’t sign up for something like this in a gazillion years because it opens a Pandora’s box of trouble. And I’m saying this as an already public prepper with my OpSec already blown.
If this website maintains its current format, I foresee a slew of enthusiasm from urban folks and a significant reluctance from country folks.
My $0.02.
Random pix
A few random pix from the last few days.
Younger Daughter snuggling with Lydia.
Our friendly neighborhood doe and twin fawns were back.
This drove Lydia nuts, of course.
Snap and Crackle are doing fine and growing fast.
Time for yet another new box.
Younger Daughter working with Brit, our horse. (I took this first photo through a screen window and thought the boo-boo turned out to be rather artistic in nature.)
Younger Daughter snuggling with Lydia.
Our friendly neighborhood doe and twin fawns were back.
This drove Lydia nuts, of course.
Snap and Crackle are doing fine and growing fast.
Time for yet another new box.
Younger Daughter working with Brit, our horse. (I took this first photo through a screen window and thought the boo-boo turned out to be rather artistic in nature.)
More random pix
I'm working on a project for which I wanted a nice, evocative, uncluttered photo - maybe an oil lamp in a rustic setting. I got on a stock photography website and looked over their selection and decided it wouldn't be too hard to do it myself.
So I set up one of our oil lamps in the barn in a rustic tableau and took photos throughout the day as the light changed. I was pleased with the results!
(Shortly I hope to tell you the nature of this project, but not yet.)
We had some spiffy clouds last night as the sun went down.
So I set up one of our oil lamps in the barn in a rustic tableau and took photos throughout the day as the light changed. I was pleased with the results!
(Shortly I hope to tell you the nature of this project, but not yet.)
We had some spiffy clouds last night as the sun went down.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Canning mushrooms
We got seven packages of mushrooms from Second Harvest this week. (In case you're wondering, we're a "cleanup" family for our local Second Harvest distribution. When they have leftover items, they call us.)
Since the mushrooms were a little too brown for fresh eating, I decided to can them. I started by putting them in a pot and heating. (The kids hate the scent of cooking mushrooms, but I told them tough patooties.)
Once the mushrooms were boiling...
I packed them in pint jars and added 1/2 teaspoon salt to each jar.
Added clean boiling water...
After the lids and rings go on, it's into the pressure canner.
According to my trusty "Putting Food By
," these get canned at 10 lbs for 30 minutes.
I only got five pints out of those seven packages. But you know what? It's five pints more than we had before, so no complaints and much gratitude.
Since the mushrooms were a little too brown for fresh eating, I decided to can them. I started by putting them in a pot and heating. (The kids hate the scent of cooking mushrooms, but I told them tough patooties.)
Once the mushrooms were boiling...
I packed them in pint jars and added 1/2 teaspoon salt to each jar.
Added clean boiling water...
After the lids and rings go on, it's into the pressure canner.
According to my trusty "Putting Food By
," these get canned at 10 lbs for 30 minutes.
I only got five pints out of those seven packages. But you know what? It's five pints more than we had before, so no complaints and much gratitude.
Men in training
A couple of weeks ago, a small incident occurred that has stayed on my mind ever since.
It was a hot day and our schedule was free enough that I decided to take the kids to the lake to go swimming. We invited two of our neighbor's children as well. But first I stopped at the grocery store for some treats for the kids.
The only male among us - our neighbor's fourteen-year-old son Master Hand Grenade - politely opened the door so we females could precede him through the entrance.
And you should have seen his face. It was shining with joy and pride at the opportunity to express his manners. He was being a Gentleman. He was a Young Man, and properly behaving the way Young Men behave around women. And he was pleased and proud about it, too.
I couldn't have been more proud of him, and he's not even my kid.
I think the reason this trivial incident stuck with me is because there are so few Young Men out there these days. We're blessed to live in a place where many parents are training their children to be Young Men and Young Women (notice how I"m capitalizing those terms) rather than skanky teens.
Just thought I'd pass this on.
It was a hot day and our schedule was free enough that I decided to take the kids to the lake to go swimming. We invited two of our neighbor's children as well. But first I stopped at the grocery store for some treats for the kids.
The only male among us - our neighbor's fourteen-year-old son Master Hand Grenade - politely opened the door so we females could precede him through the entrance.
And you should have seen his face. It was shining with joy and pride at the opportunity to express his manners. He was being a Gentleman. He was a Young Man, and properly behaving the way Young Men behave around women. And he was pleased and proud about it, too.
I couldn't have been more proud of him, and he's not even my kid.
I think the reason this trivial incident stuck with me is because there are so few Young Men out there these days. We're blessed to live in a place where many parents are training their children to be Young Men and Young Women (notice how I"m capitalizing those terms) rather than skanky teens.
Just thought I'd pass this on.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Unanswered questions
A reader email the following:
Hi Patrice,
Hi Patrice,
I've got a handful of questions about things which were discussed in some of your previous topics. For example, did any of your potatoes grow? Are the Great Pyrenees puppies getting homes yet? Have you decided to sell your tankards online? I imagine there are other regular readers who have similar questions about past topics. So, how about having a topic once a month in which we can ask these questions and you'll answer them? That would require much more of your time, so perhaps it would not be practical...but it certainly would be fun from this side of the pasture.
Keep on speaking out. This country needs more people like you.
Here are my answers:
Nope, the potatoes never grew. Heck, nothing grew. To a larger or smaller extent, it's that way for most everyone's gardens this year. Five of the eight Pyr puppies have homes so far; we're hoping to go visit and indulge in some "puppy love" but so far haven't found the time (it's a 3-hour round trip, not counting time spent there). Yes, we plan to open a retail page this fall, after our busy season is over. And yes, I'm happy to answer any unanswered followup questions folks may have.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Tarping hay
A few weeks ago we bought some hay from a neighbor. These bales are about 600 lbs each and we have 30 bales, so that gives us nine tons.
(Oh, see that tipped-over bale? It was butted over by Gimli, our Dexter bull, in a moment of playful high spirits. Bulls are strong.)
We have three tons left in the barn from last winter (which we'll use up first) for a total of twelve tons so far. That's about half what we need to get us through the winter, so we're in the market for another twelve tons.
We didn't bother mowing and baling ourselves this year since the grass was too thin and not worth the cost of hiring our favorite local farmer to mow and bale for us. We'll probably buy our hay from this fellow, though.
First thing we had to do was fetch the tarp that we (ahem) kinda sorta left out in the field after moving the hay into the barn last fall.
We started by collecting the old tires we use to anchor the tarp against wind.
Surprise! A nice-sized wasp nest made Don jump when he turned over the last of the tires.
Luckily no stings, but we walked back to the house and fetched the wasp spray nonetheless.
Found another, smaller nest under a fold in the tarp. We dispatched that one as well.
Under the tarp we found a plethora of voles as well as this fat fellow, a rubber boa. He was slow and lethargic, either because he was digesting a nice fat vole, or because of the cooler temps we've been having. Or both.
Without further mishap, we bundled the tarp into the truck and ferried it home.
However we foolishly decided to wait until the next day to tarp the hay. I say "foolish" because the next day we had 30 mph winds. Always fun to try and control huge tarps in high wind!
Nonetheless we persevered and managed to get everything buttoned up in time.
(You can see the swollen clouds as rain moves in.)
The hay won't stay here for the winter, of course. We'll move it closer to where the animals are fed through the winter.
But at least for now the hay is safe.
We have three tons left in the barn from last winter (which we'll use up first) for a total of twelve tons so far. That's about half what we need to get us through the winter, so we're in the market for another twelve tons.
We didn't bother mowing and baling ourselves this year since the grass was too thin and not worth the cost of hiring our favorite local farmer to mow and bale for us. We'll probably buy our hay from this fellow, though.
First thing we had to do was fetch the tarp that we (ahem) kinda sorta left out in the field after moving the hay into the barn last fall.
We started by collecting the old tires we use to anchor the tarp against wind.
Surprise! A nice-sized wasp nest made Don jump when he turned over the last of the tires.
Luckily no stings, but we walked back to the house and fetched the wasp spray nonetheless.
Found another, smaller nest under a fold in the tarp. We dispatched that one as well.
Under the tarp we found a plethora of voles as well as this fat fellow, a rubber boa. He was slow and lethargic, either because he was digesting a nice fat vole, or because of the cooler temps we've been having. Or both.
Without further mishap, we bundled the tarp into the truck and ferried it home.
However we foolishly decided to wait until the next day to tarp the hay. I say "foolish" because the next day we had 30 mph winds. Always fun to try and control huge tarps in high wind!
Nonetheless we persevered and managed to get everything buttoned up in time.
(You can see the swollen clouds as rain moves in.)
The hay won't stay here for the winter, of course. We'll move it closer to where the animals are fed through the winter.
But at least for now the hay is safe.
Trying to get my act together...
Sorry for the silence. We're in the throes of our busy season, which lasts until mid-October. This means we're working long and wacky hours and often I'm just plain too tuckered out to post anything on my blog. My flashes of (cough) brilliance are becoming less frequent as I'm getting spread thin.
But fear not, I have lots of spiffy photos and will at least try to get those up occasionally. Thanks for all your patience and good wishes and terrific ideas!
But fear not, I have lots of spiffy photos and will at least try to get those up occasionally. Thanks for all your patience and good wishes and terrific ideas!
Linked again
I'm going to start listing places where any of my columns get picked up.
Here's a blog called One Patriot's Thoughts that picked up my RegularGuy column Clueless in Seattle.
Chuckle du jour
I lifted this off the WND website. Gave me a chuckle.
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Three men married wives from different states.
The first man married a woman from Michigan. He told her that she was to do the dishes and house cleaning. It took a couple of days, but on the third day he came home to see a clean house and the dishes washed and put away.
The second man married a woman from Kentucky. He gave his wife orders that she was to do all the cleaning, dishes, and the cooking. The first day he didn't see any results, but the next day he saw it was better. By the third day, he saw his house was clean, the dishes were done, and there was a huge dinner on the table.
The third man married a woman from New Jersey. He ordered her to keep the house cleaned, dishes and laundry washed, lawn mowed, and hot meals on the table for every meal.
The first day he didn't see anything, and the second day he didn't see anything either.
By the end of the third day, some of the swelling had gone down and he could see a little out of his left eye, and his arm was healed enough that he could fix himself a sandwich ad load the dishwasher.
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Three men married wives from different states.
The first man married a woman from Michigan. He told her that she was to do the dishes and house cleaning. It took a couple of days, but on the third day he came home to see a clean house and the dishes washed and put away.
The second man married a woman from Kentucky. He gave his wife orders that she was to do all the cleaning, dishes, and the cooking. The first day he didn't see any results, but the next day he saw it was better. By the third day, he saw his house was clean, the dishes were done, and there was a huge dinner on the table.
The third man married a woman from New Jersey. He ordered her to keep the house cleaned, dishes and laundry washed, lawn mowed, and hot meals on the table for every meal.
The first day he didn't see anything, and the second day he didn't see anything either.
By the end of the third day, some of the swelling had gone down and he could see a little out of his left eye, and his arm was healed enough that he could fix himself a sandwich ad load the dishwasher.
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