Compared to last years hen-pecked desert, this spring I’m growing a jungle.
Between the rain and the warm weather things are just bounding out of the ground. Collecting and saving seeds for the last couple of years is paying off well. I’m trying to fill the blank spots with perennials, but that takes time. Annuals provide foliage and flowers right now. I will have to put some effort into clearing them out at the end of the season, but I should get plenty of seeds for next year. I can’t wait for the larkspur to get going. With the size the plants are now, I should have a lot of color.
We have sooo much stuff. A room full of stuff we don’t use. I’m going to start getting rid of stuff. One thing per day. I think I can do that. Even if I have to throw it away. Take a picture so I have a record. Post it here. I could pick rooms, or have a theme for a week or a month. One thing a day for year. I like it. Nothing overwhelming. No major life changing events. Just a slow chipping away at some of the crap that’s filling up my life and our house. I can do that. One rule. It has to be my stuff.
So the Wonderful Spouse got caught up in my attempts to straighten the house for Mom’s visit and when he came home for lunch further straightened and put stuff away. One thing he did brought tears to my eyes.
My Mom saves her newspaper for us to line the nest boxes in the chicken coop. We had a couple of broken eggs a while back and decided that switching to artificial grass in hopes that we would lose fewer eggs to breakage. We don’t have to replace it, just rinse it off, let it dry and put it back. I haven’t been able to tell my Mom that I don’t need the newspaper anymore because she’s been interested in the project from the beginning and seems to like donating to the cause.
When the Spouse came home from work, in addition to everything else, he lined the coop with newspaper and left the eggs for Mom to see. He knew that I wanted to show Mom the girls at their best and to show her that her support is appreciated. It’s the little things that mean the most in the long run.
So this happened this week:
That is a box of peeps. Peeping away as I drive them home from the post office.
I now officially own chickens. I’ve been excited about it for a while, and I still am. What I wasn’t expecting was the associated level of anxiety. I’ve been worried about everything. Now I always worry about everything, so it’s really nothing new, but the quantity of things I was anxious about is just stupid. I had dreams about the quantity we got. In one it was eight, in another it was three. In one they were all dead.
The first night, when we set up the box and put the heating mat under it, set to the appropriate temperature, I kept having visions of cooked chicks. I wanted to get up and look, but didn’t want to wake my husband.
Now that we’ve had them for a few days most of the anxiety has dissipated. Looking forward to getting the coop assembled and them being big enough to go outside.
Since I am now out of work I’ve been trying to cut spending. First I decided that I would turn in our aluminum cans in. Then I thought, better yet, stop drinking soda. Soda serves no purpose at all. It doesn’t nourish us. It’s often actively bad for us. It uses a lot of environmental resources to no good purpose at all. The best thing it does is taste good. On that point I haven’t been able to give it up entirely. I’ved cut back some. Sometimes. It’s a work in progress. Maybe I could try having one every other day, then every third day? I’m starting to think they put something in it to make it addictive. In my case it’s probably the caffeine.
Saving is good, but not always easy. Car repairs and dental bills and other unavoidable expenses. Then this Sunday our washing machine broke. It’s broken before, but the Wonderful Spouse was able to get it going again. This time it was just no go. We talked about getting new ones, but the thought of spending the money to get them just made me cringe. Maybe we could get it fixed?
So I went to the manufacturer’s web site. Entered the model and serial numbers and the problem we were having and scheduled a service call. The guy showed up on time and in less than hour it was fixed. At a cost I could deal with.
I’m starting to understand how people can get compulsive about saving money. It’s very satisfying. Especially if you have something you’re saving for, in this case, “The Farm.”
It would have been a whole other storey had it been the refrigerator. I would have had a new one delivered by now. Ours leaks onto the floor from someplace and the door below the icemaker is rusting through from the inside.
Saw this the other day as well. I looked it up and it’s one of those ultra-high mileage cars they they design, develop, get a few made and then go out of business.
I mentioned it to the Wonderful Spouse a few weeks ago and to my great surprise he said OK.
We both have our reasons; some of them we share.
I think that the human population has reached a size that’s getting very difficult to support. I think there’s a big bad coming. I don’t know when and I don’t know what, but it’s coming. Any kind of disaster could interrupt food, water and energy supplies. Being in a large population center could mean starvation or worse.
The whole tea party thing scares me, too. They want to deny gays rights. They want to burn books. They’re just a few steps away from witch burning. As an atheist, I think I probably fall under their definition of witch.
I’d like to be able to produce my own food. If you really want to know what’s in your food, grow it yourself. I do what I can now, which is mostly tomatoes and herbs. I’d like to do something more substantive.
Living in densely populated Orange County has kind of burned me out. I’d like to live someplace where quiet happens sometimes. It’s never quiet where I live. I can always hear cars on the highway and freeway. I can usually hear the neighbors screaming or crying or laughing. I can smell the garbage trucks going by. I’d like to live someplace where there’s room for something besides more people.
I still can’t believe the Spouse is OK with the idea, but he’s said so more than once. Now comes research and planning. Although I know no one’s experience will be exactly the same I’m reading. Hit by a Farm is the first on the list.