Confessions of an exhausted perfectionist

Last night, while driving home from my daughter's dance class, that song came on the radio with the repeating lyric, "I don't wanna be anything other that what I've been trying to be lately."  I've never really listened to the song before, and it's not even my taste in music, but I did listen this time.  And a huge wave of realization hit me that I have spent my life holding myself up to standards that are a bit overwhelming.

And one part of it is this commitment to living sustainably in a world that makes it increasingly difficult.  After several weeks of attempting to make my own shampoo, dish soap, and automatic dish detergent, I became very frustrated with the results.  I broke down and bought factory-made products without phosphates, and now my hair and dishes are clean.

I have this sense of personal responsibility for all of the problems in the world.  I listed to NPR compulsively, and feel a desire to publicly apologize for all of the crap my country does to and says about the rest of the world.  I collect piles of plastic and styrofoam packaging in my studio with the intention of embedding it in concrete sculpture or finding some other use for it, effectively keeping it out of the waste stream.  I wash all of my plastic food storage bags and reuse them until they have holes.  I make every effort to incorporate homegrown vegetables into my meals, and to make things from scratch, soaking dried beans, extracting honey, and - even in February - harvesting broccoli from the greenhouse.

Beyond that, I have psychoses up the wazoo.  There's the drive to become a highly skilled artist in my medium and to make my business successful.  There's the need to stay fit and healthy and stylish on almost no budget.  There's my quiet complex over never having achieved a graduate degree, which eats away at my self-esteem, and ties in with the urge to be intelligent and well-informed.  And then there's my constant fear that I'm not as great at parenting as I thought I would be, I can't keep up with housecleaning and bookeeping, and I am just not a very good cook.  And all of that is just the tip of it.

So, here's my confession:  I hate cooking and cleaning.  (Especially cooking.)  That's why I'm not good at it.  I sometimes buy turkey burger that is probably from a factory farm and comes in a styrofoam tray.  I rarely shop at the co-op because it is not at all conveniently located for me.  When I'm in town and need to get cheap food in a hurry, I go to Taco Bell.  That's right, Taco Bell!  Now and then I get a hankering for a latte when I don't have my disposable cup, and you know what?  I buy it anyway.  Plastic lid and all!  (Thank you to Batdorf & Bronson, by the way, for the compostable coffee lids.)  While I provide my chickens with lots of good table scraps, I do not buy organic feed.  It's expensive and not locally available (though I've been fretting about that lately.)  We don't have curbside glass recycling, so I sometimes throw glass bottles RIGHT IN THE TRASH.  (Usually, I keep them in various piles in and out of my house, which I plan to use as building material this summer.)  And, to top it all off, I sometimes just wish I could go back to making cute, crafty mosaic that doesn't belong in any self-respecting exhibit, but is fun and easy.

So there.  It's time to give myself some well-deserved breaks.  I'm 42 and yes, I now wear a size 8.  I also ate an entire pint of Chubby Hubby in one sitting two weeks ago.  I'm getting wrinkles.  There are tufts of dog fur floating around my house and the windows are all covered in dog nose smudges that have been building up for years.  And I've been reconciling my entire year's bank statements over the past week to prepare for doing taxes.  Oh, and one more thing: I hardly ever floss.

I'm not saying it isn't worthwhile to have convictions and to live according to them.  But I'm ready to let up on myself a bit and not to feel guilty about every little transgression.  Here's another confession:
We are getting ready to take a Caribbean Cruise.  I don't want to think about what cruise ships may or may not do to the environment or how shallow it is to visit the tourist area of Jamaica for only 6 hours.  I am excited to take my first ever relaxation vacation, to soak up some sun, eat indulgently, and play on water slides to my heart's desire.

Maybe after that, I'll be ready to come home and continue to singlehandedly save the Earth.

Communication Glitch

I am writing offline today, and will need to post when I can either get to a hotspot, or when Centurylink finally restores my internet service.  Last week, our area was hit by a record-breaking snowstorm.  Having grown up in Michigan, I still have a hard time taking our “snowstorms” seriously, but it really is amazing how a foot of snow here is completely debilitating.

The heavy snow and ice weighed down trees, so that the landscape is littered with huge broken branches, and many trees are split right down the middle.  Many smaller trees are permanently bowed, and you can almost hear them muttering, “Oh, my aching back!”  Power was lost all over Western Washington.  At first, people were heading to hotels and spending time at the mall and cafes.  But then, even those businesses lost power.  We spoke to a waitress with a disabled child who reported having hauled her son and his equipment from her home to those of family members, but each location lost power.  She finally booked a hotel room, but the hotel lost power, and the whole experience had been very stressful for her.

As for us, we were snowed in and our electricity turned on and off over the course of two days.  It went out for several hours both evenings, so we had to make dinner and find ways to entertain ourselves in the dark, but we were safe at home with plenty of food and the woodstove.  In fact, we each had charged handheld electronic devices, so we could read and play games in the candlelight.

Our friends in the city were not so lucky.  One family of 5 described how they stayed huddled under blankets for warmth.  A friend was desperately trying to contact her elderly grandmother, who lives alone and was without heat or phone.  Grocery stores had to donate much of their stock before it spoiled, and a lot of income was lost as nearly all business activity came to a halt for about a week.

And then a warm front came through, and the snow started melting fast.  Now we are approaching flood stage in many areas, and the rain keeps coming.  Additionally, we had high winds yesterday, further damaging trees and blowing broken branches onto power lines.

Since the blackouts, our internet has been constantly going on and off.  We could check email, but often replies were lost because the signal vanished while we were sending.  I had a technician come out yesterday, who replaced my router and modem and was re-wiring connections when he received a call with some bad news.  He went to lunch, saying he could finish the job from outside, as I needed to leave.  When we came home, we found that we had no internet signal at all, plus, NO PHONE.

I can handle power outages, but I can’t stand this inability to communicate with the outside world.  We had another blackout last night, so no clocks, no alarm to get us up on time, no way for Mike to call work.  Plus, they are doing state testing today, so it would be a very bad day for a teacher to be late.  We kept waking up to check my Nook for the time, and then the power came back on, gratefully.  (Getting ready for school and work in the dark would have been difficult.)  I sent Mike and Anouk off to work and school knowing that neither of them would be able to contact me today.  Mike has a long, rural commute in the dark, through pelting hail, after a night of high winds that undoubtedly left many obstructions on the roads.

Last night, I drove 1.5 miles to a cell phone signal and called Centurylink.  It took about a month’s-worth of minutes, many transfers, and frustrating conversations with two indifferent customer service reps and one recorded voice system to submit a request for repair.  Unfortunately, no one can contact me to set up a time, so I just have to hope someone comes before I need to leave this afternoon.

All of this has reinforced my commitment to living the way we do.  We have piles of  wood and  3 different buildings with woodstoves on our property.  We have a pantry and extra freezer full of food, plus fresh eggs.  We have a drawer full of batteries, a selection of flashlights, and a stash of candles (which we need to re-stock now.)  Anouk has a little flashlight that doesn’t require batteries, and while it is a pain to use, it sure came in handy when the power first went out and we needed to find other light sources.  We have 3 lights that stay in outlets, but when the power goes out, they turn on.  One then becomes a flashlight, holding its charge for a long time (at least, it never ran out during our outages.)  I am thinking of picking up more of these emergency lights.  The ones that stay plugged only last about an hour, but I put one over the kitchen counter and one in the bathroom, and they were invaluable.  I also keep several gallons of water for when we run out, though we didn’t need them this time.

I also remembered that Mike had an old transistor am radio from his childhood, and I was surprised to find that it was in perfect working order!  There was something very comforting in being able to listen to the news, including descriptions of people skiing and snowboarding in the streets of Olympia.

That brings me to the thing I do regret about living out here in emergencies; community.  We just hunker down in the quiet and darkness at these times.  We rely only on our own resources.  Mike hates the isolation, and becomes claustrophobic and short tempered.  I envy our friends who probably bundled up and went for walks in the silent streets of the city, joined with nearby friends, played in the snow, and made the best of a bad situation as a group.  Where there’s power, there are cafes and grocery stores, accessible by foot if not by car.  Today, I am tempted to leave home, just so I can find wi-fi and use my cell phone to be in touch with the rest of the world.  I have not been without a phone since severe Michigan weather as a child and I hate it.

So, I have written all of this out on my laptop, but I can’t post it.  I should probably just go to work in the studio, though I feel anxious and unsettled.  I hope someone from Centurylink shows up soon.

Late July on the Farm

In early June, Mike was putting together a drip irrigation system in our garden.  Sadly, his mom passed away before it was finished, so he gave me a quick tutorial before he flew to California.  We wanted to have it ready for someone to easily water in our absence.  Now, drip lines pinned to the soil feed mini sprayers and drip spouts throughout the perennial garden when the spigots are turned on.  In the veggie garden, we have timers for drip lines to the pumpkins and sprinklers for the raised beds.  The greenhouse needs to be watered by hand every couple of days.  This whole system saves hours of time and many gallons of water.

I drove down to join Mike in California, and we have only been home a few days since mid-June.  The gardens are full of weeds and many of our veggies were ravaged by slugs, but it's still flourishing.

From this view, you can see a bed of beets on the left, which we will freeze and use throughout the winter.  The bed to the right has a zucchini in the foreground and the rest is carrots.  Beyond that are raised beds with cabbage, broccoli, fennel, potatoes, kale, spinach, and salad greens.  On the far end is a huge winter squash patch, and there is a bee hive in the far right corner.

Inside the greenhouse (it was hard to shoot a full view), the left side is full of tomatoes and there are snap peas beyond them.  There are cucumbers on the right, training up twine suspended from the roof.  Calendula and basil are planted in between everything else.  So far, I've only been able to eat one ripe cherry tomato, but there are many green tomatoes that will be ripe soon.  I eat the snap peas straight off the vines, and I have more cukes than I can eat on my own right now.  They are delicious!

The turkeys are growing fast, and are always famished.  You can see the ducks peeking out from behind them.  The black rouens are absolutely gorgeous.

Most of these chickens were babies only a few months ago.  They have finally gotten through their awkward teenage phase and are coming into their own.  I am only getting about one egg per day right now, so I look forward to these hens beginning to lay.

And the goats are sweet as ever, though Pan has been getting abrasions of some kind on his face, and Isabel currently has a similar injury on her face.  I have no idea what could be causing them.

In addition to the veggie garden, we have berries and fruit growing all over the property.  I've frozen 5 gallons of raspberries, and I've been snacking on blueberries and strawberries.  I'm trying to spend some time harvesting lavender each day, and the herbs are just going to seed.  Our grape vines are huge, and little grape bunches are just starting to grow from them. 

I'm so glad to be home for the summer, and enjoying the beginning of the harvest season.

Crazy Comb

When I checked our new hive yesterday, I found that they had been hard at work building some Dr. Seuss-style architecture on the top of their frames.  (We have a top-feeder in the honey super right now, so there is room for them to construct a fantastic wax sculpture.)

I tried to find information online about what to do about this, if anything, but I only found a couple of references to "crazy comb" that did not include more information.  So, I once again harassed my friend Damian, who advised me to remove it.  Today Mike and I both suited up and I fired up the smoker (which goes out every time, so we use liquid smoke for back-up) and we carefully peeled the structure off.  This hive has been much more productive than our first one, and they already have comb built out to most of the outer frames.  We were excited to find that the part we scraped off has some honey in it, so we had our first tiny taste of honey produced by our own hives.

Next, we checked the established hive that we started last spring.  We have had a honey super on it for a year, but they aren't building comb in that at all.  Still, they have the hive body completely full of honey, and they appear to be healthy.  Hopefully, now that spring has sprung, they will spend the summer building on those frames and filling them with delicious honey.

A friend has been teaching me to make soap, and I plan to spend this year making more of it, plus lotions, balms, and candles, using our wax, herbs, and beneficial plants.  I'm actually considering reducing my mosaic production and turning part of the studio into space for making and storing products from our homestead.  We hope to invest in two more hive bodies by the end of summer so that we can either capture a swarm or purchase more bees next year.

Anouk had a friend sleep over last night, so I showed the girls the wax we took from the hive.  They were both fascinated, and happy to taste some honey straight from the source.  Keeping bees has been a rewarding challenge so far, and it ties together all that we are doing here on our little homestead.

Tending the garden on the hottest day EVER!

It has been one hot summer, and I'm trying not to freak out. Today is predicted to be the hottest day ever in the Pacific NW, over 100 degrees F. Day after day, we try to water the garden as much as possible early in the morning and after dusk, but many of the plants are still wilting. Our well runs out of water over and over throughout the day. We would take more showers to cool off, but water is scarce. I try to just spray myself down periodically while watering plants, and it helps a lot. Mike has been taking Anouk to town to enjoy air conditioned facilities.

We thought this would be the ideal place to live as the threat of climate change looms in the future. We are on high ground, but enjoy a diverse ecosystem. We are surrounded by creeks and rivers, and this area gets so much water all year. We are far enough inland to avoid the worst of raging storms, and far enough from local volcanoes that we would be fairly safe if one erupts. But this heat wave is an indication that we are not sufficiently prepared when it comes to our water. Our well is not deep enough. We can't afford to drill a new one right now, so we are brainstorming water storage. We want to find a tank that we can use to collect and store rainwater, at least for maintaining the animals and most vital plants, or for washing.

The animals seem to be weathering the heat pretty well. I'm tempted to set the goats free in the forest today, where they can forage and avoid the hot sun. Yesterday, I dunked the ferret in water occasionally, and put him in front of a fan. I keep reminding myself that people and animals live in places that frequently get this hot, and they are fine.

Meanwhile, the vegetables are ripening in full force, so that I can barely keep up with harvesting them and finding ways to use or preserve them. I think I will visit a neighbor later with a veggie delivery, and I'm planning to have a vegetable party soon so that people will come and eat a lot of our abundant food. I'd like to get some of it to the food bank, but I wish someone would make it easy by swinging by to pick it up, or even helping me to gather it. I know there are programs for that in some areas, set up by our new administration. There has to be a way to share the bounty with those who need it.

The computer is upstairs, and it is quickly becoming unbearably hot up here. Time to retreat to lower levels, and to check on the garden.