The More I Change...

While I watched the boob-tube off and on last night, I was reflecting on the many changes in my life just in the last 15 months, as well as changes over most of my whole adult life. As is typical of me, I usually don't even realize I am 'processing' something until after the fact, and major changes over the years have seemed to almost miraculously appear. Some decisions of course have been deliberate, while others feel like I had no alternative...  just pulled along like a pig with a ring in my nose.

Right now I sense something is afoot... perhaps something is percolating along in my sub-conscious, or percolating in the Universe? I really don't know... I just have a suspicion my life is about to change again, and no clues whether for the better or worse, although hopefully better... even in this crappy situation our country and the world is in.

Over the years I have accumulated working knowledge in so many diverse fields. Serial (and successful, depending on your definition) careers have been all over the map: working in open heart surgery, architectural sales and marketing, raising show horses, passive solar design, real estate legal stuff, graphic design, home building, research and development... 

None of those fields were deliberately chosen; I just seemed to fall into one after another, without any 'connective tissue'. Some allowed me to participate in some pretty awesome things, for which I am grateful although it doesn't pay the bills now. As I grew older and the list lengthened, most folks except close friends seldom believed I did all those disconnected things. Sometimes I even wonder, except I have documentation... and scars.

I have always wondered if there was some reason I was being exposed to, and learning, so many different things, and if someday those skills would all focus for a purpose. I am no closer to an answer now than I was 30 years ago. Sigh.

My Visitor

Yesterday I had a visitor... a small 4 year old boy who was allowed to roam (staying within hearing distance) and explore. He was shy, so we didn't have much one-on-one exchange, but it was great fun to be aware of him over about four hours. The creek drew him, as it does me. He sat on the bridge, peering over the railing, legs dangling over the edge, for long stretches of time.

I would love to have been inside his head while he was sitting on the bridge. I can picture all sorts of things he may have imagined... the huge nessies lying hidden in the shallow waters, the wonderment of far-away adventure as he watched the leaves he threw on the waters slowly bobbling downstream...

My fearless hunter (Siamese cat) brought up a small garden snake, nearly dead. The boy wasn't frightened at all, just curious. He had the same look of curiosity when he peered into a flower blossom he picked, as if wondering what was in there, or maybe what it was all about...

Too often I forget/neglect to take/make time for wonderment at the natural world we inhabit, to see it as a small child might, or as an adult should. Why do we misplace that enjoyment as the years pass? There is something so serene and peaceful in that still, small place... mesmerized by the swimming minnows in the creek, enchanted by a daddy-longlegs climbing a nearby tree...

I cannot remember the last time I laid down in the yard late on a clear moonless night looking up at the stars. I do remember that awesome immensity, coming from city lights to a remote camping site, and actually seeing the zillions of stars surrounding my world, sparkling in the darkness, and feeling so small and insignificant... and strangely, peaceful and invigorated. Gives my skin a tingly feeling just to remember...

Random Thoughts on a Sunday Morning...

Photo courtesy ndwfgg's photostream

Yesterday I went over to North Carolina for a visit, and during the drive I planned a short piece, "Crowding the Line" about drivers who could not seem to stay in their own lane but crossing the center line into mine on the roads. I chose Crowding the Line to describe how I, by being aggressive and crowding my side of the line, caused a lot of them to back off. It's a sad state of affairs when we have to be overtly aggressive just to use what is rightfully ours to use.

Along the roads I noticed the small communities with the most run-down housing also had the most trash thrown along the verge. I wonder if it is the drivers passing through thinking it's okay to trash an already shabby looking area, or if the residents, just by being poor, contribute? Does being poor automatically correlate with being trashy?

I came home and picked a few sugar snaps. There's something so yummy about food straight from vine to mouth in just a scant few minutes!

I also take pleasure in my posted updated weight loss yesterday, 20 pounds over the last 2-3 months. I still have a long way to go to my earlier healthy weight, but I figure this will happen because I am not on a weight-loss diet, just a change in foods I eat. I also noticed (in my monthly budget) that very few dollars are being spent at the local supermarkets. Last month I bought un-homogenized milk, waxed paper, a few lemons and limes, kitty litter... and not much else. I can't begin to say how much I've saved by NOT purchasing sodas, chips, snack foods... anything 'prepared'. My big food budget hit was $160 for grass-fed meat for the freezer, and a few dollars for eggs. All my produce came from my garden, and cheese and goat milk for yogurt came from a local goat farm.

Speaking of waxed paper... I found if I re-wrap cheese from the plastic film it is sold in, and into waxed paper, it breathes and doesn't mold as quickly!

This morning there's a piece in the NYT about the Boom in Doom (it wasn't titled that, though). It was about bracing for life after oil. The 'boom' part probably true, as I have noticed I am more inclined lately to pick up extras when shopping, things I cannot grow or make like toilet paper... and reviewing my small heirloom seed stash. I have tried for 30+ years to be prepared for natural weather disruptions of power and food supplies. Each year I add to my home-canned foods in the pantry, and rotate what I use over the winters.

I also add a few hand tools every year. For instance, 5-6 years ago I found a small country hardware store that had some new washboards. They were inexpensive, and I bought one... although I must say I hope I never have to use it for all my laundry! (I also don't know what happened to it in my move here. I may need to buy another one.) They work best in a big galvanized tub, which I do not have... yet.

Yesterday at a yard sale I bought an old brace and bit in good working order for $5. I have an old one, but the knob on the top broke off.  I have a few bits of various sizes I have scrounged over the years, and should look for more at yard sales... and get a good set of files to sharpen them (mine are scattered). Files are indispensable if you have tools, power or not. Same for knives... no kitchen should have dull knives; they are more dangerous than sharp knives.

Happy Mother's Day to ALL Moms!

Anita Renfroe sums up all the things that a mother says to her children in a three-minute song called "Momisms" set to the William Tell Overture.

Stone Soup

Photo from Bobolink's photostream

I'm sure this story is familiar to most people, but I'm posting it here as a reminder of what we can make starting with nothing but intention, and what we can accomplish when we all work together in a spirit of cooperation.

The story has many versions and many names world-wide, and it has been set in many time frames, including the Civil War in America.

The Story of Stone Soup

Many years ago three soldiers, hungry and weary of battle, came upon a small village. The villagers, suffering a meager harvest and the many years of war, quickly hid what little they had to eat and met the three at the village square, wringing their hands and bemoaning the lack of anything to eat.

The soldiers spoke quietly among themselves and the first soldier then turned to the village elders. "Your tired fields have left you nothing to share, so we will share what little we have: the secret of how to make soup from stones."

Naturally the villagers were intrigued and soon a fire was put to the town's greatest kettle as the soldiers dropped in three smooth stones. "Now this will be a fine soup", said the second soldier; "but a pinch of salt and some parsley would make it wonderful!"

Up jumped a villager, crying "What luck! I've just remembered where some's been left!" And off she ran, returning with an apronful of parsley and a turnip. As the kettle boiled on, the memory of the village improved: soon barley, carrots, beef and cream had found their way into the great pot, and a cask of wine was rolled into the square as all sat down to feast.

They ate and danced and sang well into the night, refreshed by the feast and their new-found friends.

In the morning the three soldiers awoke to find the entire village standing before them. At their feet lay a satchel of the village's best breads and cheese. "You have given us the greatest of gifts: the secret of how to make soup from stones", said an elder, "and we shall never forget."

The third soldier turned to the crowd, and said: "There is no secret, but this is certain: it is only by sharing that we may make a feast".

And off the soldiers wandered, down the road...

Are We Getting Dumber?

The University of Virginia Hospital is a huge complex, part of the UVa School of Medicine, and also part of their nursing school... and it is where I travel 250 miles to see specialists in health care not available locally.

When I first started going up there 3 years ago, the parking garage spat out a stiff paper slip with a time stamp on it. Once at the appointed office, someone would rubber-stamp my parking slip, which I gave to the attendant when exiting the garage, and got free parking.

Last fall, the slips had become larger green slips with a magnetic stripe. The offices gave me a pink slip with a magnetic stripe to turn in with the green one for free parking. There was still an attendant, and I assumed some change-over was in process.

The University must have spent millions for the magnetic time-stamp system, and the machines I saw today upon exiting the garage. The machines have a slot to insert the green slip, visually marked, and another slot to insert the pink slip to "pay" the parking... and the gates open.

Only... there is still an attendant, just no longer in the booth. The attendant takes your green slip and inserts it in the machine, then inserts the pink slip in the appropriately marked slot, and the gate bar rises. I asked her why, and her reply was that people couldn't figure out how to do it.

Now I'm no mental giant, but even a 5 year old kid should be competent enough without even being able to read... See the picture of the green slip, magnetic stripe up, and a huge arrow to the slot. Put the green slip in the green slot. Same for the pink slip. Duh.

The University has spent millions for a system we are too dumb to use, and so they must pay for both the system AND the attendants. I wonder what that will add to the cost of my health care? I wonder if that kind of expense is in the fine print of any health-care bill?

A Milk Chuckle...

As I have written before, I'm looking for raw milk... to drink, and to make cheese, kefir or whatever. I still haven't found a cow share yet, but I have been buying local milk in glass jugs.

The last jug bought 2 days ago is not homogenized (which I had not seen on the shelves before), so I bought a jug to try, put in the fridge, and then promptly forgot I bought milk that wasn't homogenized.

This morning when I went to add milk to my coffee, out poured this thick, almost chunky stuff and my knee-jerk reaction was "spoiled milk". It has been so many years since I saw milk with the cream on top that it took several seconds for my brain to process what my eyes were seeing!

I love the taste of this milk; I love that plastic jugs aren't going to the landfill, and plastic residues aren't going into my system. I also love that the milk seems colder in the glass jugs.

Lookie, lookie... Daffodils are Emerging!

I noticed these yesterday while I was walking around the house trying to get my sister's dumb dog out from under the house. (I think he chased either a cat or an opposum through a small opening, and couldn't figure how to get back out.)

Anyway, the daffodils coming up are a sure indication that spring is (eventually!) on the way. Alexander Pope was right on when he wrote, "Hope springs eternal..." !!

Root Cellar Catastrophe

Well there I was, strutting about the yard in my shirtsleeves today just because I could... we finally had some sunshine!!! ... and then catastrophe!

Yesterday I noticed a fair amount of water running down the side of the driveway and across the walkway, and I assumed it was the melting snow since the yard slopes UP to the hill in back. Partially, it really is/was snow-melt. But this afternoon I went to the root cellar to fetch some potatoes and onions, and found the water flowing out over the threshold. Opening the door, I saw water about 10" deep inside, and the pump from the spring chugging merrily along...

Of course, the electric panel box for the pump is IN that room, which meant wading over to the panel and hoping there were no live wires in the water! I checked the main panel box inside our house, and there's no breaker for the root cellar; it is powered directly from the main outside the house. I wonder what dunce installed that??

The inspector must have missed that in the Home Inspection when my sister bought this house 4 years ago. At any rate, it needs a safety breaker at the pole, so I'll have to get an electrician out here. Meanwhile, I did get the power off to the pump.

Hopefully it will drain in the next day or two, before it freezes again and I have a mini ice rink in there. My boxes of winter vegetables stored on the floor are ruined; potatoes, onions, shallots and lots of garlic. I may be able to salvage some of the garlic to plant in April but I sure wouldn't eat any of it. I don't know what else I had stored on the floor; the bale of loose straw I had around some of the stuff on the floor obscures it in a soggy mess now.

Fortunately, the plumbing is exposed (behind all the cardboard food bins rather than inside the walls), and I should be able to fix the split pipe(s) myself. The pumped spring water is only used for the garden anyway, so repairs can wait for warm weather.

I really lament the loss of the food, though, and the resulting mess. My other BIG concern is my 2 Harsch Fermenting Crocks, which are sitting on the floor in the back. It looks like there is water in the moat on their rims, which means the water must have been pretty high earlier. (My crocks are the 2 gallon size, which now sell for around $120 each, plus shipping... and they aren't lightweight.)

The moral of the story is: Just because the pipes didn't freeze and burst over the last 3 winters doesn't mean they can't, or won't!

It reminds me of a funny story though. Years ago when I lived in Boone, I had a friend who was a potter that lived in a remote cabin with her boyfriend. One winter they closed the cabin, left the spring-fed sink tap halfway open so it wouldn't freeze, and went to upstate New York for 2+ months. Well, the sink tap did not freeze... but the sink drain did! When they returned, they found the floor about 6" thick with crystal-clear ice. She said the oriental rugs under the ice had a very surreal look...

Brix, Food and Cannabis

Photo from Oilbac's photostream

I belong to a discussion group about improving soil for better Brix, and lately there have been some amusing comments I thought I'd share.

The moderator commented that he said many years ago agriculture would not be revolutionized until a million housewives/mothers showed up at the grocery stores, brixmeter (refractometer) in hand, and screaming, "take this junk back and get us some real food". If that happened, farmers can and would do the right things to the soil for higher Brix... whether organic, or conventional farmers.

Then someone posted that there is some excited discussion on the Cannagraphic Magazine Forums about raising the quality of pot using refractometers to measure Brix.

The moderator replied that it's amazing that we live in a world where you can buy better quality dope than food!

Mardi Gras: Whoever Dies with the Most Beads Wins

All the wonderful photos in this entire post are from Ray Devlin's Photostream

Mardi Gras is famous for 'Throws'... the act of throwing beads from the parade floats to the onlookers. It's a time-honored tradition started in the early 1870's by the Twelfth Night Revelers.

Some historians theorize that the tradition has roots in a pagan post-winter ritual, during which lucky peasants who'd survived the cold months celebrated by throwing milled grain into the fields—an offering of gratitude to the deity (or deities) who had given them enough food to last.

Tongue-in-cheek: I have heard it said that geologists say the heavy weight of beads from Mardi Gras stored over many years in the attics of houses in New Orleans is what sunk the houses below sea level!

Waiting with anticipation for the next float...


Even Parade Marshall's like Kevin Costner get to throw!


Beads ready-to-throw...


Some throws go wide of the mark and end up hanging in the trees...




And even the Pups get beads!

Jitneys

I had an email from a cousin containing a funny article about being in Miami for the Superbowl. Part of it was tongue-in-cheek about transportation, which somehow triggered my memory of the Jitneys in Miami when I was a teenager.

While the ones I knew were not as colorful as the one pictured above, they were great fun! We could take the city bus to downtown Miami, but to get to Miami Beach you took a Jitney for 25¢. They looked kinda like stretch limos, but not nearly so nice. In fact some were pretty beat-up.

We took the Jitney over so we could go to Wolfies or Pumpernicks, two of the great Jewish Deli's on Miami Beach. They had the most incredible desserts anywhere.

But what was really fun was the wild assortment of people in the Jitney, usually 8-10, and all the strange stuff they carried along.

While I never saw any live chickens, I saw lots of wannabe chicks, often coming from the Dog Tracks. Usually they were old ladies in quasi-casual clothing with their stockings around their ankles, and a wad of cash in a paper bag, fumbling for a quarter for the Jitney. Of course, there were all sorts of working people, too... waiters in black pants, white shirt, and a tie in their pocket... maids carrying unknown bulky items in large brown paper bags, and the beach bums all smelling like Coppertone.

It was a great time to be a people-watcher!

Wolf Moon

Photo from Ghetu Daniel's photostream, used by permission

Tonight's Full Moon is traditionally called the Full Wolf Moon by the Native Americans of the eastern and northern parts of the United States. They named it for the wolf packs howling hungrily in this lean and cold month.

It is spectacular, and the closest full moon of the year. Get outside for a moment and enjoy it!

"American" Test

Okay, here's a quick and easy test.

Similar tests run around the 'Net, but I found this one interesting and informative because it tests what we know about our government, constitution, and rights.

24 out of 30 is considered a passing grade. Supposedly 96% of all High School Seniors FAILED this test...

AND if that's not bad enough, 50+% of all individuals over 50 did too!!

American Test

They're Rioting in Africa

Remember this?

Intro:
There are days in my life when everything is dreary
I grow pessimistic, sad and world weary.
But when I'm tearful and fearfully upset
I always sing this merry little minuet:

They're rioting in Africa
They're starving in Spain
There's hurricanes in Florida
And Texas needs rain.

The whole world is festering
With unhappy souls
The French hate the Germans,
The Germans hate the Poles

Italians hate Yugoslavs
South Africans hate the Dutch
And I don't like anybody very much

But we can be grateful
And thankful and proud
That man's been endowed
With a mushroom shaped cloud

And we know for certain
That some happy day
Someone will set the spark off
And we will all be blown away

They're rioting in Africa
There's strife in Iran
What nature doesn't do to us
Will be done by our fellow man.

© Alley Music Corp. and Trio Music Co., Inc

Nuttin' to write about...

Reality is in slow motion following the holidays, and nothing going on around here worth noting.

I had planned to write about the dangers of BPA in canned tomatoes, and tout the Muir Glen canned tomatoes I love. They come in a can that has a white coating inside to keep acidic tomatoes from reacting with the can, but it turns out their coating contains FDA-approved BPA as a food preservative. (I buy them only because they are organic, and use them when necessary to supplement bad tomato years like this past season when I couldn't grow enough tomatoes to can in glass jars at home.) Sigh.

I have a critter visiting the front porch late at night. I have seen the back end of it just once when I went outside late for more firewood. It waddles slowly, but it's not an opossum... too wide and too fluffy, plus dark fur. Since it's been so cold, I've been sticking my pint of half and half for my morning coffee just outside the door rather than trekking all the way down to the kitchen. Last night the critter took it, container and all! Drats.

Snowstorms and Babies

The major weather news in the US for today and tomorrow looks like the big snowstorm forecast for the mid-Atlantic and northeast states. That reminds me of a funny story in my family.

My middle brother had finished his tour of duty during the Vietnam war, and finished a degree in graphic arts after returning home. His first big job was art director for a Virginia Beach, Virginia newspaper, and he and his young wife soon settled into their new home.

Virginia Beach seldom gets any snow so they are ill-equipped to handle a major snowfall, and every thing comes to a stop. Well, almost everything but babies that are due. My sister-in-law went into labor with her first child during that snowstorm, and of course the roads were impassable. I don't remember exactly how much snow they got, but more than 18" sticks in my mind.

In desperation, my brother called everyone he could think of, and no one had a 4WD vehicle. Finally, someone contacted the National Guard, or maybe the Army itself, and a half-track like the one pictured above came to their rescue.

They delivered the baby, a boy, in the half-track before they could get to the hospital! I'm sure my very proper SIl was mortified, but both she and the baby were safe and healthy despite the cramped quarters in the tank.

My brother nick-named the baby boy "Tank" and everyone called him that for about 2 years until my SIL put her foot down. Ever since then, whenever I hear of snow forecast for the beach area I think of that story!

Silent Monks Singing Hallelujah

Should have taken my camera...

I knew I should have taken my camera yesterday when I went to North Carolina! On the way home, I saw 2 things that made me laugh and would have been good pictures...

The first was a sign outside a florist's shop: "NOW... FRESH SILK FLOWERS"

The second was a SUV in a farmyard, surrounded by a few other vehicles. The SUV stood out because it was up in the air several feet, and tilted at a 30º angle. As I got closer, I saw a front-end loader had lifted the vehicle from the driver's side (between the wheels) by the bucket on the front end.

On the passenger side was a man in coveralls working on the front passenger-side wheel. I would never have thought to use a front-end loader as a jack, LOL.

Overwhelmed

I've mentioned several times that I am researching (and documenting) one family line in my heritage, with the intention of writing both a genealogy book, and an historical fiction book based on their early life in America.

Yesterday I had a long talk one of my cousins in New Mexico who is also working on the project. We have 12,000 names so far and we're not finished. That number didn't sound too bad, until we talked about some realities. To print out a family sheet on each of those people would take over 24 reams of printer paper... and we didn't even bother to try and estimate ink consumption!

Clearly, that's a daunting task... and who would buy a book that large anyway?

So we're re-thinking the project, and best way(s) to organize the geneology data to make it available in reasonable sections. I'm thinking that if my family had been in Kentucky for generations, the relatives out in Iowa would not interest me very much.

The very earliest generations, say maybe 1700 to 1840 or so, will still be slated for a book since none exist that are accurate, but those generations are manageable (we think).

Anyone have any thoughts or suggestions on how best to do the genealogy portion?