The daily grind

We should live off the land!  Says I.
I need to go out and slaughter a pig!  Says I.

All this junk that get's put in our food.  It's just crazy.  I don't want to eat chemicals and hormones and alien babies!  I don't think the time will come when I can ever slaughter a pig.  Or a chicken for that matter - but it doesn't mean I don't want to take what steps I can to eat healthier.  We don't eat packaged food around here (except on very rare occasions), we don't have a microwave and we grow much of our own produce.

I decided to start the journey to eventually slaughtering a pig with baby steps by grinding my own ground beef.  Ground beef at the grocery store was $4.99 a pound.  Roast was $5.49 a pound and buy one get one free.  That made quality roast about $2.75 a pound.  Roast was much cheaper than hamburger and I knew additional fat and gunk was not being added.  It still was not grass-fed beef - but I had to start somewhere.

So I set up the grinder:

 I cut a piece off the roast:

I tossed it into the grinder opening and cranked on the handle for about 5 minutes.  The grinder slipped and shifted.  The meat squished and squashed.   Stuff oozed and goozed.

My result:

The process was totally off-putting.  The results were most unappetizing.  Plus the labor-intensiveness of the process did not seem at all a good investment.

I might just turn vegetarian.  Except I like bacon.  And I like ribs.  And I like fried chicken.  Perhaps I need a newer grinder - this one was from the 40's or 50's.  I need something electric and with a tad less personal involvement because this did not work for me.  In fact - I just went to Amazon and ordered an attachment for my KitchenAid.

I should have the attachment in about three days.  I'll report back on how it goes with this tool...Wish me luck.

I enjoyed work today.

But don't tell anyone!

After all the complaining and moaning and groaning I've done I'm loathe to admit it, but today was fun.  Today was the first day I drove a for-real rural route.  My regular route, and the other one I'm trained on are called rural routes but they are in new subdivisions (that most certainly were farmland not that long ago).  I drive from neighborhood mail box unit to neighborhood mail box unit.  Because the Post Office likes to have  all their substitute carriers cross-trained on all the routes I was forced into training and delivering on this route this week, Taking a third of it each day.  This route is 28 miles long.  The first two days I was delivering in subdivisions but today I took to the open countryside.

The weather wasn't REALLY nice today but the rain held off and I got to take a drive in the country.  I delivered mail to dairy farms and blueberry farms and assorted other farms.  I even delivered mail to my own house!  I saw horses and sheep and cows.  Lots of cows.  I saw one cow licking it's newborn calf.  I had to stop the mail truck and admire the spectacle.  I talked to the cows and horses too ~ but they didn't talk back.  Too bad, I bet they'd have fascinating stories to tell.

For those of you who don't know how close to the border I really am.  I delivered mail to this mail box today:

The road on the right is in Canada, the one on the left is in the US.  Only a ditch separates the two.  Don't get any ideas though - there are cameras all up and down this stretch of the border to keep out those pesky aliens!  I even delivered to the border crossing station.  They certainly seem to be more pleasant to the mail carrier than they are to travelers...

The one bad part about this route is that a portion of the rural part is on a busy highway with speeds around 50 miles an hour.  It is two lanes and has no shoulders, with ditches next to the highway.  One wrong move and... SPLASH!    It was a little nerve wracking to be stopping to deliver mail along that stretch.  There was no way possible to completely get off the road.  I just kept hoping people were paying attention to the little mail truck with flashing strobe lights.

Welcome to Sharontopia!

I lay claim to this 264 square feet, formerly known as the "Future Fiber Studio" in the name of Sharon, the Queen.  I name this space: "SharonTopia."

Visitors are absolutely welcome in SharonTopia. I shall have an open border policy. There will be strict import laws, however.  Anything brought into SharonTopia to stay shall have to be approved by The Queen.  Placement of imported items to SharonTopia must pass a strict approval process.

SharonTopia is a work in progress.  The Future Fiber Studio was a dream.  SharonTopia is real.  It is now. It is there.

Here's the scoop.  I got married a couple years ago and now share my life with someone else.  That someone else, who I adore, seems to think he rules the roost.  I'm (mumble mumble mumble) years old and for most of those years I have been the roost ruler.  I have been master of my domain, Queen of my realm and the final word on anything involving anything around me.  Not having that control has been a frustrating element in my life for the last couple years.  We live in a house smaller than I'm used to and Peter has stuff.  He has lovely stuff, and I'm not complaining about his stuff, but it just doesn't fit and I've slowly gotten squeezed out of the house.  Originally our home office had two desks, one of which was mine.  We still have two desks in there, but his files and papers have slowly migrated over.  I had my spinning and weaving stuff tucked into the pretty spare bedroom, but now his stuff is sneaking in there.  He lives here too and he has every right to put things wherever he wants.  My problem is that I can no longer find any of my things - and when I can - I usually have to move 'stuff' to get to them.

Before we got married, even before he came back into my life I stated loudly and proudly that I wanted to live in a house that had enough room, or as little stuff, that I could ride my bicycle in it.  Clutter makes me crazy!  I want to be organized and clutter-free.  I NEED to be organized and clutter-free.

Saturday I planted my flag in SharonTopia.  The future fiber studio needed doors, but to do the job properly, the floors and sheet rock should go up first.  But before sheet rock, insulation needed to be installed, but before insulation wiring needed to be added.  That was the problem.  Although I can do insulation, sheet rock and flooring, I needed Peter to do the wiring.  So - toss out the future fiber studio and embrace SharonTopia.  A less-than-perfect but perfectly serviceable world I can control.  I decided to install my interior french doors.  Peter was busy installing a pump and filter in the fish pond so I snuck off to SharonTopia and started cleaning, straightening and installing the doors.  I wrestled them into place, and tacked them up.  Then I found out that there was a board fastened to the bottom of the doors to keep them from opening.  I removed my temporary nails and tried to tip the doors.  Unfortunately, they weren't fastened at the top so the  doors started to separate and pull the frame apart.  I stood there holding up the doors and keeping them together and unable to move.  I was in a pickle.  I managed to get them to lean against the doorway and propped them up on blocks, then I tried to use a hammer to remove the board attached on the bottom of the doors.  Problem was, it was screwed in, not nailed.  Sigh.  My only choice was to lay the doors on the floor.  I started to move them into the position to lay them down when one door flew open, the frame twisted, and I was again left stranded holding my doors at a wonky angle.  Unable to put them down, unable to lift them back up.  This time I was truly stuck.

I stood pondering my predicament for several minutes when Peter poked his nose through the doorway.

Our conversation went something like this:

He, very nonchalantly: Whatcha doin?
Me:  Nothing
He:  Are you installing the doors?
Me:  Apparently not.
He:  You know it would be better if we installed the walls and floors first.
Me:  I realize that.  (about ready to buckle from the weight of the door)
He:  Need some help?
Me:  No.  I'm fine.
He:  Are you sure?
Me:  Well, maybe I could use a little help getting this thing off the bottom...

Peter helped me get the board off the bottom and then helped me maneuver the doors in to the doorway opening  and left me to my own devices (good man!)

So here are photos of SharonTopia as it stands today..  I am happy has a clam for electricity via extension cords, walls made of boards leaning against the studs and peeling floors.  It is mine.  I shall soon remove the outdoor furniture (for it never to return) and I will make other changes as I see fit but for now it is perfect.

The little house on the ditch.

It's been awhile.  We have a gazillion PHD's  (projects half done) and more that haven't even been started yet.  The kitchen floor is still just partially stripped.  The driveway is still just partially dug up.  The fiber studio is still just studs.  The vegetable garden is half planted.  The potato field is prepped but there are no potatoes planted yet.  The fence line for the new alpaca pasture is cleared and prepped, but the rolls of fencing remain rolled up and waiting.  The grapes still need trellising.  My shrugigan is still in progress.  We have so much to do it has become overwhelming.  Even thinking about blogging was more than I could handle.

We began the driveway project with the full intent of staying on task until it was done - but the rain hit.  When there was finally a break in the weather it was spring and spring things needed to get done.  Now it's important to do things that can only be done in the spring.  The driveway and thus, the garage conversion, landscaping, etc now has to be back-burnered while we tackle vegetables and grapes and hops and more.

Chicklets are a spring thing and mine are thriving.  Of the six chicks I got a few months ago 5 are growing into fine beautiful hens that will be soon laying gorgeous eggs.  One, however is not.  That one is growing into a fine rooster to give the chicken coop that manly touch.  He's still working on getting the crow thing down.  Right now he sounds like a child screaming because they aren't getting candy for breakfast.   I really wanted a rooster - I love the crowing, when it's done right.

Several weeks ago Peter called on his way home from work to ask if we needed anything.  Honestly, I couldn't think of a thing!  But somehow he knew my unspoken thoughts.  An hour later he walked in the door carrying three Toulouse Goslings.  Toulouse geese are the geese that look like "mother goose" from the children's books.  The little things are so cute!





I love learning new things.  And hey, I learned something new!  Not too long ago I learned a very important lesson - One should not tuck rain pants into barn boots during a hurricane  (they just act like downspouts into your boots).

The newest lesson in my book is this:  Disciplining a cat when half naked is a bad idea!  We have two indoor cats and 3 outdoor cats.  One of our cats, K@t, is trying very hard to become an outdoor cat by doing all the things she knows will get her thrown off the island.  Yesterday I came home from work with the lofty goal of doing some gardening.  I changed my shirt, took my pants off and grabbed my overalls, only to find them soaked with urine.  Eww!!  K@t seemed to be hanging around in evil anticipation waiting to see the outcome of her dirty deed.   I swiftly scooped her up and  began rubbing her face with the pee-soaked pants.  She didn't like it at all (go figure!)  claws came out, teeth were barred and and she twisted frantically to be released from her punishment.  Needless to say, I instantly regretted my bare legs and questioned my own choices.  My thighs were a huge (well, maybe not HUGE)  pasty white target for 6" talons looking to exact revenge.  Trying to minimize any damages I might receive I spun her around and pinned her back to my legs, while her claws clawed the air.  I felt like I was in a Hollywood slasher movie!  During our struggle her claws found the palm of my hand.  I am fortunate she didn't connect with any other exposed flesh.  Her time in the house is limited - I really like this cat so she has at least one more chance, if not two or three or ten.  But there will be a limit.  I'm sure!