For ladies only

The website for the reusable feminine products we use, Naturally Cozy, has been revamped and updated and looks positively lovely.

As I’ve written in the past, we transitioned to reusable feminine products ten years ago. Our original pads are still going strong. We haven’t purchased store-bought disposables in all those years. With three females in the house, can you imagine how much money we’ve saved? And frankly, in terms of preparedness, there is absolutely no finer option for women.

Their products go beyond just monthly needs. They carry daily panty liners, cotton nursing pads, incontinence products, post-partum pads, washable toilet wipes, hand towels, and even flannel “clutches” to carry personal items discretely. Additionally, since this is a home-based business, they are sensitive and responsive to customer requests, so if you have a special need or a product you’re looking for, just ask!

Please go take a look at their website, and tell the folks at Naturally Cozy I said “hi.”

Near miss

This morning around 7:45 am -- in other words, broad daylight -- I heard a commotion outside with the chickens. I glanced out the window and saw several hens fleeing down the driveway, cackling in alarm.

I was outside in a flash, in time to see a coyote blatantly clambering over the compost pile toward the fence into the woods. "Hey, get out of here!" I shouted, and ran toward it.

It disappeared from sight. I stalked back and forth, checking for any injured birds; and since there was an enormous pile of feathers at the base of the compost pile, I figured the predator got his meal.

But not so fast. It seems the coyote had grabbed a rooster by his tail and got nothing more than a mouthful of feathers. Remarkably, the rooster was unhurt. Here's our boy with his libido reduced (I also associate rooster tails with mojo). That is one lucky bird.

They say cats have nine lives, but I'm calling chickens on this one. The rooster may have lost his pride and joy, but he gained his life. Fair trade-off, I'd say.

And we're keeping the shotgun handy.

How to hate your husband

Want to read a just plain weird Mother's Day article? Try this:

You Will Hate Your Husband After Your Kid Is Born

This is some of the strangest drivel I've read in a long time. We are informed:

On this upcoming day of celebrating mothers, here’s a cautionary note, something many mothers-to-be don’t expect when they’re expecting: If you have a husband, you will hate him when your kid is born. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t be fooled by the pictures on your social media feed of your friends serenely beaming with their infants. When they’re not letting you know they’re #SoBlessed, they’re probably fighting.

(First of all, note the phrase, "IF you have a husband." Now you know the direction this is coming from.)

"Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise," says the author. Um, sweetheart, I'm here to tell you otherwise. You're treating your husband like dirt, and it's your fault.

So new parents are stressed, overtired, and having trouble adjusting to the constant demands of a seven-pound helpless human being. Um, what else did you expect when a new baby came into your formerly kid-free lives? That you'd be able to treat it like a puppy, lock it in the pantry, and go out to dinner?

The article seems to center on the shocking reality that women are much more attuned to the needs of their baby than men are ("A baby’s cry was the No. 1 sound most likely to wake a woman, it didn’t even figure into the male top ten, lagging behind car alarms and strong wind"). Again, duh. The author acts like this is something scandalous and disgraceful.

Men aren't mothers. Men don't carry the baby in utero. Men don't breastfeed the baby. Men are protectors and defenders, not nurturers. (Please don't misunderstand, I know men care for their babies; what I'm saying is, their biology is geared for defense/protection, not the sensitive nuances of infant care.)

The author of this article seems to spend a lot of time explaining why her man is scum because he's not as responsive to the immediate needs of a newborn as she is (she terms it "colossal asymmetry"), and why she decides he's nothing more than a knuckle-dragging caveman:

I thought I had married an evolved guy—one who assured me, when I was pregnant, that we would divide up the work equally. Yet right after our baby was born, we backslid into hidebound midcentury gender roles as I energetically overmet my expectations.

Sheesh, sister, suck it up. What on earth did you expect? Biology doesn't conform to feminism. Women are mothers, not men.

My advice: Get some immediate counseling for postpartum depression before you send what sounds like a very decent man fleeing into the night. Then read this article.

Okay, rant over.

To all you mother hens out there.....

Happy Mother's Day to all you mother hens!

Here's my WND column for the weekend, entitled "Is it Mother's Day -- or Woman's Day?" (with the obligatory troll in the comments section).

In celebration of our own Mother's Day, we have a hen setting, the first one of the year.

She started out with only two eggs, so I shoved five more under her.

With the proclivity of this breed to go broody, I expect we'll have at least a few more sitting on eggs as the summer progresses. A sustainable breed -- gotta love it.

(UPDATE: Broken link fixed; thank you!)

Preparedness expo -- great time!

Sorry for the silence over the last week -- it's been very busy for us!

Last Friday, I rented a car and took myself down to Prosser, Washington for the small but excellent Northwest Preparedness Expo.

I left a bit earlier than I otherwise needed to because I wanted to see something I've always wanted to see: Steptoe Butte.

Wikipedia rather clinically defines this landmark as "a quartzite island jutting out of the silty loess of the Palouse hills," but in fact it's the highest point for miles around overlooking the beautiful rolling hills of the region. Just about every magnificent panoramic shot of the Palouse you've ever seen was taken from the top of Steptoe Butte, including many works by my favorite regional artist, Andy Sewell.

The day was cloudy and grim. Steptoe Butte isn't much to see from below...

...but the views from the top were unspeakably spectacular. No wonder it's a state park.

I'll do a more comprehensive blog post on Steptoe Butte in the future. I want to go back when more fields have been planted and the weather is better. Besides, I had to hit the road for Prosser.

The drive down was uneventful until a few miles outside the Tri-Cities. Suddenly I hit a wall of traffic, which -- despite it being 4:30 pm on a Friday afternoon -- took me totally but surprise. It's been a long time since I've been in a traffic jam. It stretched for miles.

At one point, bored out of my gourd, I took a photo of my speedometer.

Repaving crews were the culprits, as it turned out.

I finally arrived an hour late at the expo site, checked in, had dinner with the rest of the group who was putting it on (late, since the caterers also got caught in the traffic jam), then headed out. Just as I left, the setting sun broke through the clouds and illuminated the treeless hills across the valley. Magnificent.

The next day was chilly but sunny (actually, the coolness was in welcome contrast to last year's roasting temperatures). The expo is held on a large private farm. This barn hosted some of the speakers...

...and this "big top" tent housed the vendors.

It was a day with many speakers. I was able to attend a few workshops and visit some vendors. I love attending these types of events because everyone is so like-minded.

At the end of the day I returned to the farm of the charming family who was putting me up. I loved watching their critters.

We stayed up talking until midnight, long past my bedtime. The next morning I hit the road early, since I had to return the rental car by noon.

If anyone has a chance to attend a preparedness expo, I highly recommend it. They're invariably informative and useful events to learn a lot about the subject.

Flash sale -- Prepper's University

I just learned Prepper's University, started by uber-preppers Lisa Bedford (the SurvivalMom) and Daisy Luther (the Organic Prepper), is having a "flash sale" on sign-ups for the next series of courses.

There are two courses: The eight-week Prepping Intensive and the six-week Advanced Intensive. The whole idea behind this gizmo is personalized preparedness guidance and accountability. Frankly it's an idea long overdue for those who need some assistance in getting their preps started.

According to the website:

Students get immediate access to our Student Resource Center with hundreds of free, downloadable books, additional recorded webinars and classes, and printables.

When classes begin, students receive weekly assignments and challenges, 2-3 live webinars per week, access to an exclusive Facebook group with Lisa Bedford and Daisy Luther, printables, shopping lists, and bonus ebooks. Along with all this training and information, though, they get something no other book, website, or online forum offers — accountability and personal help with their prepping. $99 per class (savings of $40) or $175 for two classes (savings of $103)

PREPPING INTENSIVE: This is 8 weeks long and includes 24 live webinars. All the basics of prepping are covered: water, sanitation, food storage, prepping for natural disasters, health and fitness for survival, creating a survival retreat no matter where you are, and prepping for longterm power outages. This course is the best bargain — students are paying less than $6 to have the chance to chat with experts and authors like Jim Cobb, foraging expert Merriwether, and Fernando Aguirre (FerFAL).

ADVANCED INTENSIVE: This course is 6 weeks long and delves far more deeply into preparedness with topics that include setting up a bartering system, strategizing to earn extra money in order to exit the economy, surviving in a war-torn country, the realities of a survival homestead, and even moving out of the USA. We offered this course last session and it was overwhelmingly popular. It has a few different features, such as DIY projects aligned with each module’s topic, “You Are There” survival scenarios, and a few exclusive, recorded classes in addition to the webinars.

(I'm going to be featured in one of the webinars late in the Advanced Intensive course, specifically Jne 21. More info on the courses can be found here.)

However I was away from home most of the day and didn't find out about this flash sale until quite late, so I urge you to take a peek and see if this is something that might be of interest. Unfortunately the sale price ends Tuesday at noon so there isn't much time. I'm hoping if someone is an hour or two late in signing up, they're still able get the sale price. Just say the dorky woman from Rural Revolution couldn't get her act together and see if that works.

Sorry for the late notice!

Rite of spring

This morning we did one of our annual Rites of Spring: We released the cows into the pasture.

Ever since Matilda's debacle in mid-March in which she fell down in the woods after being chased by the rest of the herd, we've kept her strictly away from the others. Sean, her yearling calf, toggles back and forth (sometimes he wants to be with the herd, sometimes he wants to be with mama); but we've been keeping dear elderly Matilda in the driveway, not in the woods with the others. I don't want any more gray hairs (at least from that source).

But green grass is getting scarce in both locations (driveway and woods) since the beasties are eating it down as fast as it grows. Yesterday we caught naughty Matilda leaning over the fence to crop the grass in the yard.

So -- shrug -- we opened the gate and let her into the yard for a couple of hours. (Lydia didn't think much of this arrangement, so we kept her indoors during this time.)

The Ultimate Country Lawn Mower, right? Maybe we could market her.

But it was clear the animals needed more grass. The pasture is now grown to the point where it can sustain the herd. So yesterday morning -- the first truly summery day we've had this year -- was the grand and glorious Moving Day.

We made sure various gates were opened, then gave our universal cattle call: "Bossy bossy bossy bossy BOSSY!!"

Oh my, the herd knew what THAT meant! Brit led the jubilant pack, galloping toward the gate, neighing with excitement.

Various other cattle followed, running as fast as they could.

Within moments -- we're talking 45 seconds, tops -- everyone was chowing down on the green grass.

Well, almost everyone. Victoria's little calf, not old enough to be familiar with the seasonal Rite of Spring, got separated from the herd. "Hey, where'd everybody go?"

Fortunately he found his way through the gate within five minutes or so.

Brit renewed her acquaintance with the horse next door.

However we still had Matilda and Sean to move. I kept them in the barn, their usual night spot, until the rest of the herd was moved down. That's because I wanted to put a halter on Matilda and walk her down into the pasture, followed by Don acting as an armed escort. I wasn't about to take a chance the herd would gang up on her, since she's been apart for so long.

I needn't have worried. Everyone thoroughly ignored her, intent on cramming as much green grass into their bellies as fast as possible.

It was a very peaceful reentry for Matilda, and I'm glad she's back where she belongs. It also underscores the idea that the herd wasn't attacking her back in March when they went chasing her in the woods; they were just in high spirits, looking for an excuse to run. (I just -- ahem -- tend to be overprotective of my favorite cow.)

Later that afternoon, I saw the sweetest sight. Since Matilda and Sean spent the winter in the corral and didn't associated with the rest of the herd, it also meant Matilda was separated from her adult calf Amy. Well, now Amy and Matilda are together again. I caught a quiet moment when mother was grooming daughter. The pleasure in both animals was tangible.

Look at the expression on Matilda's face.

So all is right with the herd. Spring is here.

UPDATE: I'm getting a lot of concern about how awful Matilda looks. Please, folks, she's a Jersey! Don't compare her to "meatier" breeds, like our Dexters (Amy is half-Dexter, so she's meatier than her mama). Jerseys are all "skin, bones, and udder," as a dairyman once put it. The rule of thumb about a Jersey is you should be able to "hang your hat on her hipbone." They just look naturally skinny because they're milk animals, not meat animals. Have no fears, Matilda is quite healthy.

Down to the wire

I got up at 2:30 am this morning. Sadly, this is nothing unusual; I'm an early riser anyway, and once I'm awake I have a hard time going back to sleep (i.e. at 2:30 in the morning), so often I just get up. Early mornings are an excellent time to get stuff done on the computer.

Which is exactly that I did this morning. Tomorrow I leave for the Northwest Preparedness Expo in Prosser, Washington, and I needed to get my slides (visuals) finalized for my talk.

This is the third or fourth (I forget) time I've spoken at this expo, and it's a small but excellent opportunity to learn a lot about preparedness in general.

It's amazing how much time and energy goes into getting a one-hour talk ready to go, including visuals. I'm down to the wire and need to get everything finalized.

I spend today packing and tomorrow driving. I hope anyone in the area has the chance to attend!

Why labels are good

Let me tell you a small story.

Many years ago, back when we lived in Oregon, we needed a chest freezer. Montgomery Wards was going out of business at the time, so we went and bought the biggest chest freezer they had (it was enormous).

Our Oregon house was old (1874) and small (850 square feet), and we had had absolutely no room for such a monstrous appliance. There was no question where it would go: the basement, which was little more than a dirt-floored half-space between the floor of the house above and the sloped hill beneath.

The basement was damp and dark, with no lights and only accessible by an outside door. Except for the darkness, it was a great place for a freezer, and we used it a lot. It allowed us to do things like freeze surplus meals and take advantage of inexpensive or past-its-prime produce.

One day Don expressed interest in some homemade onion soup I had previously frozen in individual-sized portions. "I know just where it is," I said confidently. Taking a flashlight, I went into the basement, fetched the onion soup in its baggie, and brought it into the kitchen where I put it on the stove to heat.

As the soup heated, I noticed a lovely, fragrant smell permeating the kitchen. It smelled delicious, but most decidedly NOT like onion soup. Further investigation revealed I was simmering puréed bananas from a too-good-to-pass-up sale the week before, which I had frozen for future batches of banana bread. We chuckled over the "banana soup" incident for a long time.

Now fast forward to yesterday. I had plans to make pizza for dinner, so the first thing I did was reach into the chest freezer for the shredded mozzarella cheese I always keep there. (You can guess where this is going, right?)

I let the cheese defrost for a couple hours. Meanwhile I made the pizza dough, let it rise, and formed the pizzas.

But when I reached into the bag of cheese to spread it over the sauce, I pulled out -- rice. Leftover rice I'd frozen a couple weeks ago.

Labels. Yes, labels are good.