Thoughts on the matter...

The taxman at the tea party.

2010-04-17T12:27:00.000-07:00

For the past six weeks I’ve been working my ass off at a CPA firm, filing other people’s taxes for them. So naturally, I’ve been thinking a lot about the subject of taxes and it’s been interesting to see what various people have made, and what they have to pay.

I really don’t understand the Tea-Party movement. Do they want a military? Roads? The police force, prisons and firemen? Did they go to public school? Are they going to collect social security? Do they benefit from the society they live in? I'm just wondering..

They answer me, “I'm not against all government and I'm not against all taxes. Of course, we need some government and some taxes, but I think we could use less of both of those things.”

Oh, so it's only some places your taxes go that you don't like? Maybe I should join the movement. I have a whole list of places I don't like my tax dollars going. I don't like my tax dollars going to subsidize corn or soy. I don't like my taxes going to build hundred-million dollar aircraft for the military, or any of the wars we are currently engaged in, or any CIA operations. I don't like how much we spend on prisons. And I don't think tax dollars should be used to fight something as natural and benign as cannabis, which if you read into its history, is illegal for completely different reasons then what we are told. And I don't like my tax dollars going to teach abstinence only sex education.

“I think what the tea party movement is struggling against is big government and the road to socialism.” They say.

Well, I think a government should take care of it's population. especially one like ours, where there is no place to opt-out. And I think that capitalism equates a person’s worth to the size of their pocketbook

I suppose it comes down to differences of opinion. And I don’t think Humans will ever overcome their differences. I also wonder if the Tea Partyers are really any different than the Iraq war prostesters that sprouted up during the Bush era. I also wonder how big the movement really is compared to the media attention it receives.

But the differences that are there are huge. The protestors who want peace for everyone, and those that propagate hate and hording. So they don’t want to lend out a helping hand. Those who claim to be christians and follow in the footsteps of he who said “if he is naked, clothe him; hungry, give him bread; tired, a bed; thirsty, your cup.” I paraphase. But I, not claiming to be christian, turn the other cheek, and do unto others as I would have done to me because I believe in being a decent human being.

I’m half-convinced that the Tea Partyers are just really pissed off that they have a black Democratic president. They are so mad that they lost and the person who won is black. They are so mad, they are going to stupid lengths to express their anger. For example, in my state of Arizona, governor Jan Brewer is spending state resources to file a lawsuit against the federal government over the health care bill, (along with 13 other states, who are not going to win, and are just doing it for the political points) while they are having to slash the state budget everywhere else, cutting education, health and social services. When this country is filled with the super-rich living in cities surrounded by walls, and massive slums are filled with illiterate, ignorant, hungry and beaten down people and they begin to riot, we will have none but ourselves to blame.

The 5-year plan

2010-02-14T09:17:00.001-08:00

I don’t recall being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. It was assumed that I would marry a returned missionary and be a stay-at-home mom. The Mormon girl’s dream. As such, my husband would work and I would not have to worry about my own career. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Let me explain what I see as one of the fatal flaws in the traditional feminist movement, i.e. the choice to be a stay-at-home mom is frowned upon. Or, that it is not really seen as work. My sister and my sister-in-law are both stay-at-home moms and each have four children. I would not want their job; they work just as hard as their counterpart who brings home the bacon. Now, I’m all with my sister suffragists and I agree, at least intellectually, anything you can do I can do better. But to choose to be a stay-at-home mom is just as novel as choosing to be a stay-at-home dad. As long as both individuals in the particular relationship are in agreement. Yep. Yep.
However, that is not how it happened for me. Nope, that’s not my story. Since I was never asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I never really thought about it. Oh, I had little girl dreams of being a ballerina or an actress… As I wandered through community college after high school, I finally decided to major in Anthropology because I thought it would hold my attention long enough for me to graduate. It was important for me to get my bachelors, but I had no plans for life after graduation. I knew I loved to travel, but that is an expensive avocation. I moved to Los Angeles after graduation on a coin toss. That and my older brother already lived out there. I randomly, and very fortunately, landed a job in Beverly Hills which taught me a skill: bookkeeping. It turns out I am not only good at it, but I actually enjoy it, and it introduced me to Ed. We met in the hallway at work, a month before his company moved out of the building. I think Ed really saved me in Los Angeles in a way, saved me from what L.A. could have done to me or what I might have become.
Ed would often ask me what my long-term goals were. I’d reply that I didn’t have any, or they were completely vague. Going back to school crossed my mind from time to time, but with no particular subject in mind. Well, underwater archaeology, maybe. The past few months Ed and I have been in deep discussion about these things. I took an on-line career/personality assessment test. My strongest working style was authoritative, and my strongest working field was administrative. I have often been told I would be very good at the top if I could just get there. In high school, when I worked at Wal-Mart, the store manager sat me down and told me I could go as far as I wanted to go in the company, if I could just curb my eccentric behavior. I quit a few months later because I believe I shouldn’t have to curb my eccentric behavior. You’ve got great potential I was told. Well, what good is potential? Potential for what? It’s only as good as you make it out to be. Mine was an aimless potential.
In mine and Ed’s conversations we’ve come to the conclusion that I, being twenty years younger with a longer career in front of me, really have the greater earning potential in the long run. However, we should make my credentials a little more bona fide and my skill set a little more bankable. That means in the short run, incurring the expenses to send me back to school. It’s a hard three year road I’m looking at. One that if I start I must finish. That will be my goal, my first official timeline structured goal.

off with the old

2010-02-13T15:47:00.000-08:00

I started thinking some good things last night and this morning. Things to write about, write all about it. Write about Ed cutting his hair. Hopefully a lot of his anger and bitterness went with it. He’s let it grow for the past year, and what a year he and his hair went through. Ed has probably had a more difficult time than I have this past year. I understand his bitterness, but at the same time I can’t help him get over it, he has to do that himself. And while I have, at least lately, been rather happy and having a good outlook on life, that becomes hard to sustain in the face of someone who consistently points out all the bullshit. And it’s all bullshit, folks. We turned off the news for awhile. When we turned it back on we changed the channel, we now watch the News Hour with Jim Leher. I feel they go into a little more depth. But still, we sit there and listen to the bullshit going on, and all the aging-balding-silver-haired-white-politicians who aren’t going to lift a finger to help improve society, and who aren’t going to attempt to change anything about the status-quo, because the status-quo is what got them to where they are in the first place.
When he stops to think about it, he gets really angry. Angry at his ex-business partners who shafted him. Angry that at almost fifty he has to start over. Ed is having a much harder time finding a job than I am. While I have gotten a fair response to my resumes, and a few jobs, Ed has received only one phone interview that led nowhere. It is very demoralizing for him, especially when he interacts with employees who are completely incompetent. He comes home fuming, “how do these clueless idiots get a job? I’m a UCLA grad, and this moron has to ask me how to spell ‘Edward.’ How are they employed and I can’t even get a call back?!” And what can I say in response? If he looks for mellow low-paying jobs, people upon seeing his resume are like why are YOU going for a job like THIS?
But since he cut his hair, he has been slightly more optimistic. Times are tough, but they are tough for a lot of people. And while we don’t have as much as some, we have more than most of the population on this planet. I mean, what are the poor souls in Haiti having to deal with? And we are complaining about having to cancel our cable TV? While I have high hopes for our individual outlook, I do not believe that over all the economy is improving for the general populace, or that it will. There are too many fundamental problems.
Situational updates: Ed and I are moving again, this time it’s around the corner and down the block. Hopefully, this is our last more for a while. I got a seasonal job at a CPA firm, helping them through tax season and I’ve realized I really like working with a lot of little numbers. By little, I do not mean quantitatively, I mean small. So now we are contemplating me moving forward to obtain my CPA license. It’s back to the U of A, on my way to a CPA, three years away.

My response, a continuation

2010-02-06T08:47:00.000-08:00

I must confess, I have never read Howard Zinn. But now I intend to. There was one more comment I wanted to respond to, but I felt my last post was getting too long. The comment was made on ‘it’s not polite to talk about politics.’ Something to the effect that corporations that have to make a profit must on some level provide what the general population desires, while the government just forces taxes on us and they will spend it doing whatever they want.
Ed and I were watching the news the other night, and there was a segment on how Obama's budget cuts funding for NASA. One of the NASA directors was on saying how horrible that was and how important space travel is to ours country's prestige. That is one man's opinion on how our tax dollars should be spent.
One thing that kills me in the health care debate is people saying they don’t want their taxes to pay for other people’s health needs. To that I say, I can name a whole host of things I don’t want my tax dollars going to. I don’t want any of my tax dollars going to Iraq or Afghanistan. I don’t want any of my tax dollars going to the CIA or any covert operations that they engage in. I don’t want my tax dollars to subsidize corn, or to bailout big banks. I don’t mind my tax dollars going to fix roads, or educate children, or maintaining our national parks. And I would not mind my tax dollars going towards providing everyone in the country with adequate healthcare. While we’re at it, let’s shift the health care focus from reactive to proactive. Let’s stress being healthy. Eat well and exercise.
Another thing I find interesting is, (I got this information off a 2007 congressional report that cited 2004 numbers), the US government spends more per capita on health care than any other country in the OECD. The OECD is the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development; it consists of 30 democratic countries that are considered the most economically stable. The US government spent $6,102 per person, more than DOUBLE the OECD average. I would like to point out that a lot of the countries in the organization have universal coverage. How is it that other countries can provide all of their citizens coverage for less than what we pay not providing for all of our citizens?
This brings me to another one of my big questions about humanity. Can a bureaucracy be efficient? Is that possible? First let’s look at the general reasons we find them to be inefficient. Well, they run on tax dollars that are given to them, not earned by them, with no one there who really cares about the bottom line. They are generally top heavy organizations that rely on extensive paperwork. And the employees are generally incapable of deviating from that paperwork. I always say that the one thing that college really taught me is how to have a piece of paper signed by four different people and retuned to the first. And here is the second question, can big corporations be efficient? In the brief time I worked for a national investment bank in Oregon I found them to be just as top heavy, just as bogged down in paperwork, and the people with the company purchasing power have no real stake in the company and don’t care about the bottom line either. Look at all the Wall Street execs who were bonusing themselves out millions while their company was losing money. The CEO’s, who again have no skin in the game, jump off the sinking ship with their golden parachute, over to the next company and starting the game over again. While the shareholders are left seeing their investments diminish. How efficient is it to disenchant your customer base by routing their calls to Bangladesh, causing them to speak to someone with whom they are mutually unintelligible? I said to one of them once, ‘I realize they tell you what you are speaking is English, but you cannot understand me and I can not understand you. Let me speak with a supervisor’ How efficient is it to ignore the signs of changing times, and to dig one’s heals in while refusing to change and adapt, e.g. like the auto companies?
What about corporations providing what customers want? Most of the time these companies come up with a new product, and then through advertising, convince the public they need it. Take the pharmaceutical industry, continually coming up with a new drug for ailments people never knew they had. Or inventing new ailments that humans have never had in the past. Like ADHD, which I don’t believe really exists; it wasn’t until the 1960s when Ritalin came out, and the 1990s when prescription medication really took off, that it came out that all these children had ADHD. What about the hundreds of generations before them? Did they have overwhelming occurrences of ADHD? No, just like the millions of children that don’t have it now, but the company came up with this drug, and they intend to sell it. Let’s look more broadly at all the psychotropic drugs on the market and ask ourselves why is it that millions of Americans feel the need to drug themselves in order to cope with life? Prior to all these medications people just drank martini’s. And how hypocritical is it that we tell the public that they can take all the little blue pills they want, as long as they were prescribed by a physician, but don’t you dare smoke marijuana or peyote, don’t you dare take mushrooms or any of the other NATURAL occurring mind-altering substances. No, they would rather us take chemical compounds put together in a lab. What’s up with that? Why don’t we trust the natural world, perhaps it’s because that’s what the pagans worshipped? Is it that we think we are smarted than nature, the same nature that provided adequately for our predecessors? I have no answers for you.
I mentioned in my last post how BOTH parties in a conflict bear responsibility. We Americans (which is really just the latest incarnation of Rome) are taught to believe that we are Number 1. That we are the best, that all our motives are magnanimous, that we are the doer of good deeds throughout the world. This is simply not true. The decimation of our native population, the enslaving of the African race, the Japanese interment camps of WWII, our current treatment of homosexuals, the prejudice against Middle Eastern people, these are all bad things that we have done. Like our current action in Afghanistan, what do we think we are going to accomplish there? Genghis Khan couldn’t conquer them, he British couldn’t do anything, the Russians couldn’t do anything, so what are we going to be able to do? Also the notion that we are number 1 implies that we are the best in every possible way. There is no room for growth with that opinion, which is why as a country we have become stagnant and are beginning to collapse.

Regarding my response

2010-02-02T06:21:00.000-08:00

A few months ago I received a couple of comments on this blog that I wanted to respond to. It was part of what has been brewing in my silence. I felt one comment, on my ideas about the universe in a nutshell, was dismissive. I would like to take an opportunity to discuss some points in no particular order. Moreover, these points drive home some of the basic questions about humanity I wrestle with.
What do I do with the notion that there is ‘evil’ in the world? People like Hitler, Stalin, Mao, who, for no reason other than their warped world-view, caused the death of millions, massive suffering, and were generally not nice people. Or other people who today I am told, hate me because of my freedom and my lack of adherence to their radical religious views, and who would kill me if they could. So I ask myself, “Is it possible to breed out hate”? Is hate an innate emotion? Would it occur in a vacuum? Hate stems from fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of competition, fear of death. I believe fear is an innate human emotion. “Fight or flight” and the adrenaline that flows from it is one of the traits that kept our species alive. However, the difference between fear and hate… I think hate is a taught trait, but a trait that has been taught to the human race for a very very long time. When generation upon generation, insofar as oral legend or written records can attest, have ‘hated’ another group, is it possible to un-teach that lesson? I’m not sure it is, at least not while each side is generally still engaging in the actions that cause the fear to turn to hatred in the first place. Yes, both sides. Rarely is a conflict one-sided.
We are all products of our environment. Let’s look at Hitler. Why? Because he is the one I know the most about, having studied the Third Reich. Hitler, in his youth, wanted to be an artist. He applied for art school in Vienna and got rejected. And how different would human history be if Hitler had been able to pursue his passion for painting? Would he have become the evil murdering madman we all know him as? While the Nazi party was formed in the early 20’s, the movement began to loose steam by mid-decade. As Germany was living some of the Roaring Twenties and was gaining economic security, the Nazi’s message of who to blame for the struggle fell on deaf ears. It wasn’t until the Stock Market crash of 1929 which resulted in Germany’s economy completely collapsing that the Nazi message took off like a hot air balloon, catapulting Hitler to power. So here are two events that if they had, or had not happened, may have changed the course of history. There is one other point I want to make, and then I’m done talking about Hitler. If Hitler had just been some lunatic, digging through trash cans and muttering to himself about the ‘damn Jews’ and reveling in his evilness, would the holocaust have been his end result? No. He had legions of people under him to carry out his commands. He left much of the administrative duties and some of the decision making up to others in leadership. There were many people, including those citizens who went along with the status quo, working of their own free will supporting the policies. One last thing to think about, if the world had not put so many reparations on Germany after WWI, especially when it was the Austrian Empire that had started the war, maybe the country never would have the economic hardships that lead to the rise of such radical ideas.
And just as a general note, the winners write the history books, and those books never mention how many people they killed, or it’s usually just mentioned anecdotally. How convenient.
On a different note, a comment was made regarding the idea that everything cannot be made locally. I would like to say a few things and I will try to keep them short. I did not say EVERYTHING, I said anything that could, and I think a lot could, even cars and refrigerators. It is more a mater of logistics rather than of ability. Once upon a time everything that a community needed was produced locally. But then the big box stores that could mass import goods for less came to town, and instead of going to the mom and pop who have been providing goods on a local level, we go with cheapness and convenience. Slowly the local factories and production slows as jobs are moved overseas, to employ people who work for pennies on our dollar. Eventually those crafts and skills are lost and we forget that we were capable in the first place.
One final comment, I do have peace in my life. But instead of thanking the military and police force I give the thanks to a loving family, a supportive husband, and my own self-esteem.

Madness and Insanity

2010-01-30T16:04:00.000-08:00

Maybe I like going through existential angst. I sure do get there a lot, at least when I’m out of balance. I’m a Libra, if you believe in such things. Our sign is the scales, balance, peace and harmony. I feel out of balance like I’ve been driving with a flat tire. Two flat tires. There are some conclusions that one has to keep coming back to before they accept them. These seem to be mine: 1) No Misery Is Worth It. I just hope I remember that next time. 2) Recognize the cycle: I’m going crazy now, I’ve gone crazy before and I’ll go crazy again.
I need an expressive outlet soon or I will explode. You only suppress yourself, but I feel that it is a taught trait. I was taught. I often say that I am the reincarnation of my mom’s free spirit, if you believe in such things. My mom would have been a crazy hippie, had she not been raised Mormon. I recently stole a book from her on the uses of herbs for one’s health. That’s my example. I didn’t really steal the book; I told her I was taking it. I remember once I told my younger brother that I was so mad, and he corrected me, I was angry not mad, because mad was crazy. Now I correct him, we are all mad here. Long term instability can do that. But then I remind myself that there is no security anyway, people bank on the illusion of it, but really any day now Yellowstone could blow, and then what would we do? The western half of the United States would be under ash! That would complicate things. But until it does I have to trudge along and feed myself.

Quiet minds

2010-01-26T06:44:00.000-08:00

My mind has been very quiet lately. But I can feel it getting ready to explode again. It feels good.

It’s not polite to talk about politics.

2009-11-12T20:07:00.000-08:00

Politic. Anytime there is interaction within a group of adults, politics are involved. People have their own interests they hope to promote. Self-interest. I got into a discussion with a libertarian recently, and while I found it very frustrating, it enabled me to pin down what my disagreement with libertarians are. One: the idea that everything is motivated by self-interest. I say, let’s define self-interest, because on one level it’s true. I found a box of kittens in the park once, I don’t particularly like cats, but I felt bad for the kittens, so I took them with me and cleaned them up, fed them and found them homes. Self-interest? Those kittens cost me time and resources, but doing it made me feel good, so in that way, yes it was self-interested. But to the libertarians who banter about free-market principles and its Darwinian social repercussions and call it self-interest, what they are really talking about is greed. And a line from the upma-lumpa song goes through my head: if you’re not greedy you will go far. You will live in happiness too, like the upma-lumpas doop-a-de do.
Back to politics, and to follow, other taboo topics. I think I’m done censoring myself and plan to unleash my insanity. Maybe it is my thinking I’m crazy that makes me normal. More on that later. Can there be a good government? A government is only as good as the people who make it up. I’m worried about our government, for many of the same reasons that I am worried about the future of the human species. I’m about to narrow that down to corporatism. Corporations who only answer to their shareholders and next quarter’s profits and are so short-sighted that they do themselves long-term harm, e.g. the auto industries. But I’m not completely there yet.
So, I voted for Barack Obama. And all things considered, I think he is doing OKAY. Let me qualify that. First, I think our system is so corrupt that in order for a person to reach the level of president, they themselves must be corrupt. You can’t walk through fire without getting a little scorched. Second, a president is not a king with a scepter, or a magician with a wand. Our system of government was set up to be slow. Third, there are very minor differences between the two major parties. The same corporate interests are lining the pockets of both. (democrats tend to be more liberal socially, which I like). There are some minor parties that try. But can you take grassroots to a national level? Or does a national organization result in a loss of street-cred for the grassroots origins? Fourth, there is a LOT of CRAZY BAD STUFF going on. And really, there is only so much control over life. I have no answers for you.
So what to do? You see, there is no storming the castle. The powers that be will shoot their neighbors to maintain its structure. We saw that in 1970 in Ohio. Like Tiananmen Square to follow, and any other government crackdown. They have bigger weapons than we could ever imagine. I say, wait for it to collapse under its own weight. It might be slow and painful, but it’ll happen. And in the meantime attempt to do what you can to promote the causes you believe in. We have few options, we can vote, and we choose what businesses we patronize. I’ve started to follow up voting with writing letters to my senators and my congressman. I bookmarked their contact pages. I send quick messages of causes I think they, as my representative, should support. Like the Local Community Radio Act and a Public Option. But I don’t think they listen to me. When I sent a letter to Jon Kyl, I received a form letter back saying thankyou for your opinion, but here is why a public option is bad.
So I keep trying.

My ideas about the universe in a nutshell

2009-10-30T07:59:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking about growing. What it means to grow, the act of growing. I just turned 29. I grew. I’ve been thinking about change. Growing and changing are similar in nature but have different connotations. A lot of change happened the past year, and as a result I grew.
I’m not really going anywhere with this.
I’m really rather radical. I think that where Humans need to go in order to continue to succeed is so far from where we are that I wonder if we are even cable of asking the questions, and questioning the institutions upon which we base our society. I’m an idealist, but I have been disappointed from time to time.
I do think that the human species can live in global peace and prosperity. I say global, which scares some people, and which might be odd from me, since I have stressed the local. Let me explain. I see a global local movement, meaning that everything that can be produced locally will be. EVERYTHING. I really think we need to bring production back to the people. Strip it down to what we need: we need to eat. What can be grown locally? What animals thrive there? We need a place to live. What are the local building materials? We need education and health care. Most things, even larger appliances and electronic goods can be produced locally, on a smaller scale. In order to do this, we will have to challenge the corporatist presumed point of life, i.e. the accumulation of wealth. Hoarding. What are we saving for? Now is all we have. Hell, there could be some crazy worldwide disaster that kills us all tomorrow. Children who have no idea of the value of a dollar will inherit wealth and most of it will be squandered. I see the point of life to be the enjoyment of it along with the happiness that hopefully accompanies it, while remembering that life by nature is suffering. All I am saying is give peace a chance.
I’ve been thinking of everything and about nothing at the same time. It’s an odd headspace. Sometimes I want to bury my head in the sand, other times I want to crusade and save the world. It’s like this jumbled up ball of twine, and you don’t even know where to begin trying to tease it apart. As you slowly work one string out of the knot, the whole becomes less tangled, until the strings fall loosely in your hands and you are able to braid them nicely.
It seems too big, and the forces on the other side too strong. Because I do believe that there are forces on the other side that profit from the confusing jumbled up ball of twine and want to keep it that way.
I used to say that I thought it was five monkeys in the mountains of Peru who really ran the world. Now I think it is probably a handful of international bankers who run the show.
The alterations that society needs to make on the whole require that we question the institutions that form it: the military-industrial complex, the insurance and pharmaceuticals industries, the sue-happy legal system, the embedded corporate interest in the government agencies.
To be continued…

Suffer the little children…

2009-10-09T10:23:00.000-07:00

While we work to create an alternative economy we must still live in the real one. I feel like I’ve written that before. To that end I obtained employment. I got a job with a company that provides after-school programs. For a few hours every afternoon I get to hang out with about fifty running and screaming children.
I like kids. I have two siblings that are 10 and 12 years younger than me, and I changed their diapers and walked them to sleep. Played with them and babysat. When I left home they were 6 and 8 and I still think of them as that age sometimes, but now they are 17 and 19! That means I’m old. I look at them and say ‘how old are you again?’ Then there are the handful of nieces and nephews that I have lived with on occasion. The point being, I’ve always been around children. Just to further my credentials, I also worked with children with multiple disabilities at a school for the deaf and the blind.
As the subject of an anthropological study, children are fascinating. They are the continued evolution of the human race. Their little brains are designed to learn their culture. Every child will, without ever receiving formal training, learn to near perfection the spoken grammar of their dialect. Every individual will of course put their own idiolectical spin on that dialect, which is in part the cause of language evolution. I often argue nature vs. nurture to myself. I mean, infants have personalities, and two year olds are bursting with personality. But you can never completely judge by the child’s personality what the adult’s personality will be. Just as you can never imagine what a child will look like when they grow up. However, whenever I see pictures of my mom as a little girl, I think that she looks exactly the same; I can still see that little girl shining out of her eyes. Damn linear nature of time.
Well, the company that hired me serves one of the school districts here in Tucson. I have had a rather confusing time with it. In the first three weeks I have worked at four different sites. Just as I was beginning to learn the kids’ names in one place, the company would move me to another. And the children in the current place are the biggest group of hellions that I have ever seen. Many of them argue back with phrases like ‘whatever’ ‘who cares’ ‘no’ ‘you can’t make me’ and one kid told me when he grows up he wants to be in jail. I have been hit in the back twice in as many days, kicked and threatened by some six year old punk, who runs off and climbs up a tree.
There is little support form management; the philosophy behind the program is to explore the child’s interest and plan the curriculum around their interests. I really appreciate the theory; there just isn’t the structure to back it up. To this end, we are not allowed to organize activities we are just allowed to provide them with materials and let them explore. We are not allowed to discipline, we must re-direct them to a different activity. We are not really supposed to tell the parents of troubles with the children, if we must we should preface it with lavish praise. We are not supposed to project our voices to get the whole group’s attention; we must gather them one by one and request that they quietly sit on the rug.
I realize that I have a different approach to child rearing. As Cesar Millan advises, children and dogs need rules, boundaries and limitations. If a child misbehaves, they should be corrected. If a child at such young age is already lying, stealing, fighting and threatening to stab people, it’s time for some hard knocks, and some place putting. They should learn that such behavior is not tolerated by society. Mamby-pamby psycho-babble isn’t going to cut it.
Children have been successfully raised for millennia, without detriment to our species, but now I think we are doing harm to the human race with these coddling philosophies.
Look at me, I wasn’t given options, I was told to do things. I was spanked, and grounded and put in time out and made to apologize. And I turned out just fine. (some people might question this)

Going local

2009-09-23T18:31:00.001-07:00

As I have previously stated, one of the life conclusions Ed and I arrived upon in Oregon is that we need to operate as locally as possible. To that end we have sought out several local movements. We found a local rancher who grazes their cattle about 70 miles away. The beef is really good, but a tad on the fatty side. However, she also sells raw bones for dogs and a special high-fat ground beef that we cook up for Jackie. He loves it. Speaking of Jackie, he is getting used to living in the city. There are several dog parks we take him to, where he invariably gets rolled around by other dogs, but he loves that too. Ed is getting Jackie involved in dog competitions, Earthdog, which simulates hunting and agility. In October we will be going up to northern AZ for his first trial.
The first organization we contacted here is called Local First AZ, they are a non-profit that started in Phoenix to promote local business. It goes something like this: for every dollar spent at a national retailer 13 cents stays in the community, however for every dollar spent at a local business 48 cents stays in the community. For every two jobs a national company creates, three local business jobs are lost. Keep it in the community. Ed and I went to a mixer they had to introduce ourselves. It was really for business owners, and since we are not… but we have started using their website which has a directory of local businesses.
Then we heard from a friend about a local currency movement. Monetary structures have lately piqued our interest. Let’s briefly delve into the philosophical realm. What is money? Money is a standardized means of exchange whose value is based upon something. It used to be, a long long long time ago, that the value of currency was based on the production of food and goods. The US federal note that we use is based upon the word of our government. It used to be, a long long long time ago, that money was created every season with the various potatoes, grains, fruit, meats and cheeses that got to the marketplace. Now money is LOANED into existence by the Federal Reserve, which by the way is a private company, so that the second it touches a hand it has to be paid back WITH INTEREST. That fact, and in order for society to maintain it, depends on a continually expanding economy. And since the earth and the resources upon are a finite entity, an ever-expanding economy is impossible. My own humble opinion is that the human race is reaching critical mass. Money used to devalue over time, as the various potatoes, grains, fruit, meats and cheeses rotted over time if they were not used. This encouraged re-investment into the community. Now money increases over time (via interest), indeed it takes money to make money, or as my uncle always says “the money that money makes, makes more money.” This encourages hoarding, by those who can afford to hoard, and slowly the bulk of the wealth is in the hands of a few (international bankers) and the majority of the population are grinding it out in the wheels of the machine, getting more and more of their production value taken away. (Most of this information, though I have it from several sources, is found in the book LIFE, INC. by Douglass Rushkoff.) The laws laid in place hundreds of years ago and have been altered for the benefit of those in power (think large corporations and multi-millionares) to remain there.
What to do with all this information? One solution is to create a local currency, one that is not loaned into existence, but one that is based on the value of the labor of the members of the community. Which in theory would never inflate or deflate since the value of that labor never changes. All you have to do is get everyone to agree that this new currency has value and to accept it as a means of exchange. So Ed and I have been going to the group meetings helping to aid the cause. I have never really thrown myself into a community group of this nature. The few times I was involved in a collaborative effort was mainly in the context of school projects. So I am new to this forum, and I realize that even though we all have the same goal in mind, we see different ways of getting there. There are personalities and egos involved and the occasional irresponsibility of the volunteers. Usually the meetings are at the end of the day when we are tired and hungry, but we are trying. I’m excited to see where this goes, and being part of this movement. Some group members believe we should just launch the program (right now in the form of a on-line ledger account system, hopefully one day to incorporate magnetic strip card technology and maybe paper script) and start operating within it and figure it out as we go. My only worry would be if the program launches without figuring out some logistics it might fall flat in early stages. But here we go.
Ed is also volunteering at the local community radio station and the public access television station. It’s good here and I think things will just continue to get better.

Stop cooking and pour me a beer

2009-09-11T12:11:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things about this little house of ours, is that it has a big kitchen, with lots of counter space. I now have the basic necessities to do what I’ve been saying I want to do since I was 19, learn to cook. Not just any cooking, I want to walk into my kitchen, throw flour against the wall and come out 45 minutes later with a three-course meal. Slight exaggeration, however I do try and start with the simplest ingredients. No pre-packaged goods for us.
My true problem is I’m a picky eater. I don’t like food. In LA, Ed and I pretty much stopped going out to eat, because two times out of three, I ending up not liking what I ordered. So I stick to what I know.
A friend of mine invited me to a raw food party here in Tucson. Where everyone is to bring a raw food dish and I took chopped up melons. I took a little bite of everything and the only thing I liked was the melon I brought. Most of the dishes were shredded up carrots and cucumbers and tomatoes and sprouts, and usually marinated with spices like jalapeño, cayenne or some other pepper that I don’t care for. One of the things I never did understand about Raw-foodies,Vegans or any other extreme dietary lifestyle is when their foods try to imitate that which they will not eat. For example, at the raw food party there was a ‘chocolate’ pudding cake. But it wasn’t chocolate and it wasn’t pudding. What’s up with tofu burger? Why do they say it tastes like chicken? They don’t eat chicken or burgers! Why not just embrace the diet and advertise that it tastes like wheatgrass?
I like bread, so I’ve started making as much bread as I can. I stole some bread tins from my mama, and bought the biggest bag of flour I could find. I really enjoy making bread, so far I’ve made banana bread, Asiago bread and regular white bread. I’m going to attempt pumpkin and French bread next. Bread takes a while, and it’s messy, which I like. I feel that one should make a mess while they are cooking. I enjoy the process, mixing in ingredients, letting the dough rise, mixing in a few more, letting that rise. I take extra pleasure in kneading, with my hands covered in flour, as I slowly work the dough into that smooth spring consistency. And is there any smell greater than that of fresh baked bread? No, I don’t think so.
The other edible item that I think I have gotten really good at: fruit smoothies. And this helps with our desire to improve our diet. It’s a perfect way to get our daily fruit requirements. It’s so much fun to throw random fruits into my blender, a little yogurt, honey and orange juice. Everyday it’s different, and everyday I think it’s the best one yet.
Tonight I’m going to make bread pudding.
There is a great little locally owned Asian market three blocks away, so I need to learn how to cook Asian food. I have a little harder time stretching myself when it comes to main courses. But we did find a local beef company and have been making pot roasts that are quite delicious. The best part of me cooking is that Ed cleans.

Tucson, Arizona

2009-08-26T18:03:00.000-07:00

When I left Tucson about three years ago, I was never going to return. It’s a great little town, but I had some hard times growing up here. Every street was filled with negative associations. It’s an odd feeling being back here, because while here is still the same, I am not.
I know this place, I’ve cruised these streets since I was 14. Its smells and its people are familiar. There is also a re-birth for me coming back here, and for the town itself. Downtown is going through a much needed renovation, a gentrification without losing the Old Pueblo charm. Ed loves it here, he tells me that everyday. The desert speaks to him, the air is easier to breath, and then the monsoons roll in for the afternoon and cool everything down. My heart is here, too. The wisps of wind will dry the sweat from my shirt, and the sunsets over the jagged Tucson Mountains will shoot out waves of orange, pink and reds. I remember what I like about the desert.
The Universe has seen us move into a great little home, in a great location. And true to our charge, we have begun to seek out the various local movements we want to help advance. We have been going to community meetings and social mixers. There are several avenues worth exploring. LocalFirstAZ is an organization that seeks to promote local businesses while educating the consumer about the benefits of keeping your dollars local. We have looked up where all the farmers markets pop up around town, and met a few local ranchers that only sell their beef in Tucson. We live down the street from a community radio station that Ed is going to volunteer at.
Finally, a lot of my family is here. As I told Ed, after spending six months with his parents, my family doesn’t seem so bad. I have my differences with my family, but hopefully, I have learned how to bury the hatchet.
All in all, it’s good to be Home.

Back by popular demand

2009-08-15T08:14:00.000-07:00

So it’s been over a month. I have been feeling my fingers itch for the keyboard. But I’m not sure what I’m talking about yet. The Airstream is sold. There is nothing left on the farm to give away that we once lived there. As we drove away from there for the last time, Ed towing the U-haul, me following in the Prius, I felt the nightmare dissolve behind me, as I awoke and began to notice the beauty of sunlight scattered by the clouds.
We’ve been gone for a month and in a way I don’t even remember being there at all, maybe those six months never happened. But I have a few permanent scars that remind me of where I’ve been.
Ed’s daughter was with us for 3 weeks, and we eventually dropped her off in LA. We spent a few days in LA ourselves with some good friends. We walked past our old apartment, ate at my favorite bagel shop, re-stomped the old stomping grounds. The surreal feeling of familiarity, the roads and the shops, but LA is no longer home. I loved being there, but I’m glad we did not try to move back there.
We settled in Tucson, AZ. Back to my roots. It’s a great place, and I have friends and family here. Ed commented on how we can’t go anywhere without me running into someone I know. It’s nice to have a city around us. We live in a little guest house downtown, which puts us in walking distance of everything we could need. I plan on being a pedestrian as much as possible. Ed and I are determined to get involved in the local community and local economy. We will not let all the knowledge we acquired and the opinions we formed lay dormant. The local food movement and neighborhood connections will find great advocates in us.
I need to change the name of this blog, if I’m going to continue it, which I plan on doing. Beverly Hills to Hillbillies doesn’t apply any longer. I think it will be named ‘The Instant Local’ but that name still needs to make it through the committee. And I’m also working on expanding the BH to HB story, filling in the details and eventually publish it as a book. I have always felt I have a book or two in me.
In the meantime, here we are again, starting from scratch, hoping to get our lives in order. The task of a lifetime.

Leaving the farm

2009-07-05T23:19:00.001-07:00

Ed and I are coming up on our one year anniversary. Time for reflection. It is bemusing to think that we are newlyweds, with all we have been through. Our marriage has aged here. It has been the best and the worst of times. I’ve aged here; I’ve lost some of my happy-go-lucky spirit. I hope I regain it, for I liked that part of me. I’ve learned a lot about myself and I’ve thought a lot about the world around me.
So it didn’t work, Ed and I becoming farmers. The Beverly Hills to Hillbillies experiment failed. But it is in failing that one learns. That’s how scientists continue to narrow their focus and reform their hypothesis. As my archaeology teacher would say, we learn just as much by what we don’t find.
Let’s first look at what we found. We have found a deep appreciation for farmers, for those people that love the land and produce the food that sustain us all. As well as those who work on a local and environmentally friendly level. We don’t need to destroy the land to live off of it. We don’t need to be patenting organic life, claming ownership over a certain vegetable strain, thereby obligating others to be dependent on one source to produce that vegetable. That seeds are created to commit genetic suicide is wrong. For the very basis of life is that it is able to reproduce itself. I have become aware that there are greedy corporate forces that try to manipulate the food supply for their own benefit. To this end, I will work where and how I can to counter these forces. Support your local farmer. Support your local community.
We have found a love of small time gardening. It is amazing that a tiny seed, just with sun and water, will turn itself into a wondrous plant that bears fruit that we eat for strength and sustenance. I watch as the apples and tomatoes get bigger everyday. When I visit the local grocery store and wander through the produce section; oranges, kiwis, avocados, they just grow, naturally. From now on, we will always grow some of our own food. I think it is important that humans experience that connection with their earth.
The farm gave us a perfect location to get a Jack Russell. We are endlessly grateful that we have had these months of bonding with Jackie.
I would like to thank all my dear readers. Ed and I were talking about how crazy the brief media frenzy was. I’m glad it happened. The writing process and the blog forum have been wonderfully therapeutic for me. I like writing, and I like my writing. Although some times I stare at my keyboard, wanting to throw it out the window. I’ll always be writing.
Ed’s daughter is flying in tomorrow. We haven’t seen her since April. We get to keep her for a month, and we’ll be driving around the northwest for a while. Then, Ed and I are heading south. We are children of the sun and feel that it is a good direction to go.
So this is the end, and once you’ve said that there’s nothing left to say.

Don’t make decisions in the dark

2009-06-28T19:49:00.000-07:00

There are a few funny things about living in this Airstream. Although it is level and stabilized, we can still feel it wobble a little as we move around in it. Especially when Ed walks down the hall. Sometimes I think the Airstream is haunted, I often feel someone move behind me, out the window. I always turn to look just to see the great outdoors. It’s all just metaphor I suppose.
In the evenings, Ed and I will take Jackie out into the newly cut hay field and let him run to his heart’s content. We stroll back and forth and try to process all that has transpired the last six months. I keep going back to our original decision, that starting over at Ed’s parents place was the best option at the time. I realize now that that decision was made while we were in panic mode. When Ed’s partners booted him and we lost 75% of our income we started to panic. Panic is not a good frame of mind from which to be thinking about options. We felt that we had no other realistic options, and we didn’t give ourselves enough brainstorming time to see if we could come up with any. So we jumped.
What goes into making a decision? I started thinking about algebra, (algebra almost kept me from graduating college) and a basic equation where you plug in variables and solve the problem. If there are too many variables the equation is unsolvable. So one might replace one of the variables with an assumption, which might allow the equation to be solved. We all know what assuming does. I’ve already been made an ass of, so what does it matter now?
Assumptions are made everyday. To generalize, people go to college on the assumption that the degree will wield them higher earning potential. Houses are bought on the assumption that the equity will increase. Wars are begun on the assumption that people want to be liberated from dictatorships and will welcome us as liberators. However, nowhere is it written that one’s actions will produce the intended results. What then goes into decision making?
There is only so long one can hold off doing anything for lack of decision making abilities. I’ve heard that length of time is three days or 72 hours. But I think the length of time allowed is relative to the choice being made. In our case, the question of what we want to do with our lives will need more time to figure out.
Am I still here, stuck on the LIFE question? But as long as one is living, I think they are stuck on that question. It’s one that you have to re-answer every day. Every day you wake up you re-decide how to focus your energies for that day. It can be in the direction you have been moving, or it could be a 180° turn. The interesting thing about angles is that even a 2° shift can greatly alter the destination.
Which brings me back to algebra…

What’s growing in our garden

2009-06-26T14:14:00.001-07:00

I’m really proud of what we’ve accomplished. We went into this project as idealist young kids, without a clue, making it up as we went along. My original thoughts about how hard it might be to get plants to grow haven’t yet come to a conclusion. How hard is it? I don’t know, the broccoli and celery have yet to come up, and I’m wondering if some of the green leaves popping up are vegetables or weeds. If I’m not sure I don’t pull it up. Most weeds I’m sure about, but there a few things in the cucumber bed I’m not so sure of. I’m happiest about the sunflowers. My dad gave me a pack of sunflower seeds when we were down in Tucson, he said they were old and he wasn’t sure if they would grow, but they are getting taller and taller every day.
I think that we will keep a little vegetable garden wherever we go, but I don’t think we’ll have such a big one.

The Dirty Farmer

2009-06-24T17:18:00.000-07:00

Ed and I watched a documentary called “The Real Dirt on Farmer John.” It was great. Farmer John was raised on a farm in Illinois, and inherited it when his father died young. He went to a nearby college, where he befriended artists and hippies, and invited them back to his farm to create a farming and artist commune. It all ended horribly wrong, with mounting debt and the local townspeople spreading rumors about violent drug induced orgies and murder. None of which were true. But farmer John threw up his hands, swore off farming, and went to Mexico. In agrarian Mexico he re-fell in love with farming, and the sacred relationship between farmer and soil. When he finally made it back to Illinois, to start all over, he decided that this time he would be an organic farmer. He found organic, done properly, required three times the amount of work, plus a LOT of knowledge he never had, and he was met by the town with the same skepticism and distrust that had met him previously. After a few years of breaking his back, getting nowhere, he once again swore off farming and returned to Mexico. When he came home the second time, he again started up his organic/artist farming community. With the help of his mom’s vegetable stand, and some restaurant owners in Chicago searching for local organic produce, he managed to sustain himself farming in a holistic manner.
It was a very good documentary and I recommend it. It illuminated a few things for Ed and I. First of all, here is this guy who was raised farming, all his family and neighbors farmed, who inherited a farm with all the equipment and animals, and he said organic was too much hard work! So how could Ed and I, without that background, really be expected to accomplish such a feat. Also, part of our dream for this place was to turn it into an artist retreat, where people could gather and garden and create in a relaxed environment. And we’ve been sad to have to let that dream go, but it was wonderful and cathartic to know that someone else out there had that same dream, and saw it come to fruition. Just knowing that there is an artist-friendly farming community out there really helps us to peacefully let that dream go for ourselves. And so we think we should drive to Illinois to shake hands with farmer John.

Drastic Actions

2009-06-23T13:09:00.000-07:00

They are what drastic times call for. As such we have decided to sell the Airstream. Yep, it’s listed on e-bay. We think that it’s the thing to do now. We feel liked we tried, we gave it our best effort, but the signs were early and obvious that it just wasn’t going to work. For reasons stated in earlier blog posts… It is strange in a way, the way we imagined the outcome when we started, we would have been caring for little chickens by now. My blog posts would have been about building their coops, bailing hay, and our further involvement in the farming community. About bailing hay…within the last week, the nearly 3 1/2 acre hay field got cut down, raked up, made into bales and put into the hay barn. I watched all of this while weeding the garden. The garden is our favorite thing about this place, the sun has finally been coming out all day, and daily I look to see how the little plants have changed. We’ve been eating radishes nearly everyday now, and there are a few little green tomatoes on the vine. The corn stalks never cease to amaze me, and the potato plants are flowering. However, we pulled off all the potato flowers, so the plant sends more of its energy to its root system. We also have little asparagus and herbs coming up, although they will take a few years to mature. It’s enjoyable to spend the mornings watering and weeding.
Back to selling the Airstream. We have Ed’s daughter flying up from L.A. in two weeks, and once she is gone back to her mom’s, we think we’ll hit the road. We’ll drive around aimlessly, seeing what we can see. Across America, across Canada, maybe into Mexico, I mean, really it’s possible to drive down the Pacific Coast to the tip of Chili! I had a cousin who did it on a motorcycle. And then you could drive up the eastern seaboard, through Brazil, skirt around Venezuela, all the way up to Québec. Then hell, by that time you may as well cut across Canada to Alaska where you started from! That’s right, in our Prius with our dog. If we are going to be homeless, we may as well be traveling. In fact, I’m thinking about changing the name of this blog to ‘Vagabond U.S.A.’
The Airstream has been good to us. It’s been our cocoon, but it’s time to shed the shell and let our wings spread. A lot of good mental work has been done here; it’s forced us to sit with our thoughts and our discomfort. There has been no running away, only constant reminders.
On a completely different note, I’ve been sick lately. It is no fun. Ed and I had this lovely Father’s day trip out to the coast planned, we went anyway, but we had to pull over about five times on the way there so I could puke. I’m just starting to get my strength back. The one up-side to being sick: I lost a few pounds. Not that I need to, but what woman doesn’t like to loose a few pounds? Aside from the physical unease, aching all over, alternating chills and sweats, not sleeping well and having a headache, aside from all that I have felt mentally up-beat. I’m not really worried about this next step, and for whatever reason, I think good things will come our way.

Homeless

2009-06-14T13:10:00.000-07:00

Home, there is no place like it, and according to who you talk to it’s where the heart is, or wherever one lays their head. Not quite, and not any place can be one. Whether it be a castle, a shack or a 1974 Airstream Ambassador. It’s a person’s kingdom, their sanctuary. I’ve always prided myself on having a place where I can shut out the world, invite in whomever I choose, and relax and feel at peace. A place where I feel comfortable puking my brains out if I get sick, and a place where I like to walk around naked. What makes that homey feeling? It’s something that spans ages and cultures. Now I feel a little like Dorothy, all I want to do is to go home. But for as much as I click my heels, I’m not getting anywhere, and I’m definitely not in Kansas.
For the last decade, I have moved about once a year. Some places feel like home the very first night. Others take awhile. When I think of home, I also still think of my parents house. Although when I go there I don’t know where anything is anymore because I haven’t lived there in ten years.
I say that I have felt homeless for the past five months; Ed says he’s felt homeless for seven, ever since he lost his job and we knew we would have to move. L.A. didn’t feel quite the same after that. Not feeling like you have a home is a very unsettling feeling to have for any length of time.
I’ve got a Paul Simon song stuck in my head.
The Airstream is not home for us. It would be great for just one person who doesn’t cook very much. It would also be a great camping trailer, for a week or two at a time. But it is not home. It’s so small; Ed and I have to crawl over each other to move. I can’t stretch or put my shirt on without my elbows hitting a wall. I’m always hitting my head on the door jam stepping in and out of this place. It also amazes me, for how small this place is, how easy it is to loose and misplace things. I’m constantly tearing the trailer apart looking for my keys.
To end on a happier note, one of the good things about being homeless here: being able to eat from our garden. Our radishes are ready! It’s so exciting to see the little tops pushing out of the ground, so satisfying to pull it out of the dirt. They smell incredibly fresh and are so pretty. Ed can eat radishes whole, I normally can take a small bite before my eyes water.

Experiments in slowing down

2009-06-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

This is what I tell myself: do a breathing exercise, breathe in all the good, positive energy; breathe out the bad negative energy. Focus on the breath: inhale warmth and relaxation, exhale out cold frustration. Sit up straight. Clear your mind.
Much easier to say than to practice.
Some of the activities of slowing down: baking bread, reading, having picnics, watching my dog breathe. It’s all very fun. The picnic was especially fun, there is a lovely riverfront park that we went to. We laid out our blanket, drank wine and had bread and cheese. Ed ran around with Jackie, who is learning not to bark at other dogs. It’s all very pleasant, and slightly boring. There is only so long one can really sit in the grass reading a book, no matter how good that book is.
I often wonder, because I am a student of history, and because I am a die-hard Pride and Prejudice fan, what do people do with all their time? And they had to wear those dresses and be all proper like. But there are 24 long hours in every day; 365 days in a year and how many years do we live? That’s a long time! I know Time is perception, however, I believe my mama said it best when she said, “the days are long, but the years are short!”
So while we are in the waiting mode, for the next shoe to drop, or the next stepping stone to be laid, we are having a series of very long days, with not a lot to fill them. We are trying not to be impatient throughout this waiting period. First, we don’t want to make the ‘next move’ out of a place of panic. Panic is never a good place to make a decision from. We would like to take our time and do it right.

Reinterpretation of the dream

2009-06-05T18:00:00.000-07:00

When we first moved here, and once I stopped crying, we saw nothing but possibilities and trees, now we only see the trees and they are blocking our view of the forest. And I’ve started to cry again. Throughout daily life walking around the farm, tears well-up in the corner of my eyes. I am mourning the loss of a dream and possibly losing my dreamer’s quality. Maybe it’s just becoming more realistic, or refining my life goals.
One of the facts we have admitted to ourselves is that we have too much urbanite in us to live so far out in the country. We enjoy the hustle and bustle of a city. Being isolated on this farm for five months has slowed us down a little, so instead of speeding in the fast lane we’re cruising in the slow lane, but we still want to be on the freeway. I don’t want to go back to LA, but there are some things about LA that I miss. In the city we could get anything delivered at any time, here no one will even deliver a pizza. In the time it takes us to walk to the very small country store, which is about a mile, we could have walked to any number of stores, restaurants, cafés, boutiques, the post office and the police station. And country roads are scarier to walk on because there are no sidewalks, but on the other hand everyone waves to us as they pass in their vehicles. I don’t think I ever got waved to in Los Angeles. Flipped off, maybe.
What I’m saying is, we don’t need to be in an overwhelmingly large city, but we would like to be in a little more populated area. So we begin to ask ourselves, where to this time? There is another factor that we somehow failed to properly estimate. That is: we are still newlyweds. And we still want the ‘just us’ time, and adventure.
I’m not sure where I am going with this, so I’m going to go back to where I started. My dream. To live quite and comfortable with my husband and my dog, and I don’t think I’m asking too much. However, my idea of comfort has been scaled back after living in a 200 square foot Airstream for five months. To be continued…

Impolite Conversation

2009-06-02T19:34:00.000-07:00

Ed and I are always discussing whether or not I should be careful with my politics, and religious views, i.e. my philosophies. Because I am extreme? No. Well maybe. Heaven forbid I should offend anyone with my views, even though I am constantly offended by what is said around me. I feel I should speak up. Not that I expect to change anyone’s mind, that’s why it’s theirs, to make up for themselves.
Now to the story: We had a very nice guy from down the street deliver some firewood. A cord for $100, which I guess is a good price, having never bought firewood before, I really don’t know. But Ed has bought firewood and he said it was a good price. 10 minutes into unloading the truck, the man stops what he is doing, turns towards us and in all seriousness asks us, “Do you know the Lord?” (and I was wearing my Buddha shirt) to which I replied “Jesus”, (no, that’s just what I thought), I actually replied, “How much time do you have?”
Ed and I recently watched the movie Religulous, by Bill Maher. Well, according to him about 16% of the American population are ’non-believers’, people who do not affiliate themselves with any religion or belief system. 16%, that is a sizable portion of the population. And we non-believers can’t sit quietly while all the believers run rampant yelling about their beliefs. On that note, I would like to proclaim that I am a Questioner. I do not know if there is a God or gods, and I am OKAY not knowing. I do not think such questions are answerable. What I do believe is that the Universe will take care of you if you just let it. Whatever that means.

Random updates

2009-06-01T19:58:00.000-07:00

#1- I’ve got a green thumb! There are lots of little green things coming up in the garden, and some big green things. Our poor little tomatoes that suffered so much have come alive in the ground! They are getting bigger everyday and spreading out leaves. Ed is really happy about them. I’m the happiest about the potatoes. I’ve never seen a potato plant and I think they are beautiful. The corn grows the fastest for sure; I mean you could stand there and watch it grow. Sometimes I do stand there and watch it grow, it’s a great way to slow down. We’ve built a new fence around the garden; well Ed did most of the labor, and it seems as sturdy as any of the other fences on the property. Not bad for novices. Finally, we have little tiny apples on the trees! Two of the three trees have apples and they are so little, I’m going to watch them grow, and then I’m going to eat them.

#2- Mini road trip in Oregon. We’ve been taking to the road lately, more for driving around than trying to get anywhere. But still we’ve made it out to the coast and up into the Cascades. Oregon is a beautiful state; the greenness and lushness are a match for any landscape. There is nothing like driving on a shaded winding road that follows beside a river. We love giving Jackie the new experiences; his favorite was probably running on the beach.

#3- Jackie is the best dog ever, but I might be biased. Around 9pm we have our routine where Jackie walks himself into his crate and lays down. He says ‘leave me alone mom and dad, I’m tired.’ He’ll wake us up between 3-5am to go to the bathroom. Ed and I take turns taking him out. I actually enjoy taking him out so early in the morning when the stars are either popping or the dawn is breaking, both times are peaceful and amazingly inspirational; it is a silence I enjoy. When we come back in, I tell Jackie to sit so I can take off his leash. His little tail wags in excitement as soon as I say ‘okay’, then he bolts up onto the bed and licks Ed good morning. They roll around together as I climb back in and Jackie curls up at our knees. It’s my favorite time of night. Jackie hangs out with us all day, wherever we go. He follows most commands, at least he knows what he is supposed to do, but sometimes he just doesn’t feel like doing it. On the other hand, sometimes he does what we want without us even having to say anything. We just look at him and he’ll sit. Ed just got him to lay down on command, he was resisting it at first. He is super-curious and always wants to investigate. When I was pulling up roots in the garden area, he was right there with me digging as fast as he could, and being the cutest little puppy ever! In my own humble opinion. While watching him dig with such enthusiasm, we decided that we would like to teach him to go underground after prey, which is part of what Jack Russell’s were bred for. We just love him! The Vet said that for those of us who don’t have children, our animals are our family. And as my mama always says “Every mama crow thinks her baby crow’s the blackest.”

My next passion

2009-05-27T19:15:00.000-07:00

Since we’ve decided that it is impractical for us to bury ourselves trying to build a profitable farm so quickly, without real knowledge or skill to do so, I need a new focus. We’re completely committed to growing as much of our own food as possible. Now I want to learn how to cook. I’m not talking about making mac and cheese from a box, I’m talking from scratch. We are still completely into local food and sustainable eco-friendly production methods (how’s that for jargon!). But we don’t have to be the ones producing it. We just need to support those who do.
Last weekend we went up to Eugene’s farmer’s market, and one of the vendors there had a great little resource guide mapping out all the local farms in the area, what they produce and when and where they sell. Also it listed all the farmers markets in the county. There is a market happening every day of the week except for Mondays. This is how I’m going to start shopping, no more Safeway for me! Well, as much as possible at least. Ed and I figure we won’t be purists. For one thing, there is no local coffee, sugar or flour, all of which are essential to us. Hmm, there might be local flour, from eastern Oregon. We’ll buy everything that is available locally, but for that which is not, we are not going to go without. However, I would like to find a banana distributor that is not Dole.
So I want to cook, and I think cooking should be a messy process. I’ll throw it up against the wall, be covered in sugar and flour, and have vegetable shavings at my feet. I’ve always wanted to purchase my flour and rice in fifty pound bags. Part of this comes from my childhood, my mom had cans and cans of whole wheat, which she would grind and make bread with. And there is nothing like the smell of baking bread. There is a family dinner roll receipt that I am pretty good at making, but Ed and I are really looking forward to making all kinds of bread.
I have a problem when it comes to my desire to cook, I don’t really like food. That is, I’m a very picky eater. When we lived in LA, we would listen to NPR on the way to work (Ed and I worked six blocks from each other and had the luxury of commuting and eating lunch together everyday), and one day they had a segment on picky eaters. It’s a documented subject, where the appearance and texture matter almost more than smell and taste, although they matter too. It was describing me perfectly. Ed would always tease me when we would go out to dinner, I would take one bite of my meal, and say it tasted funny. And that was it, my way of saying I didn’t like it. I’m a basic steak and potatoes (medium rare of course), hashbrowns and eggs, bread and cheese, Mexican food (I grew up an hour north of the border) kind of girl. It’s not the most well-balanced diet. I might be slightly exaggerating, but not by much. Ed, on the other hand, is a garbage disposal, so even if I don’t like what I make, I know he’ll eat it.
I’m trying to stretch my limits. I tried mushrooms for the first time in 20 years, they were a little spongy, and I didn’t really like them, but I tried! I had asparagus, which I never liked, and it was okay, the real little ones were, depending on how they were cooked. The fresh ingredients help; I throw everything I can into the salads: cucumbers, strawberries, radishes, bell peppers, onions, carrots, avocado, cilantro, and maybe some lettuce. I’m making myself hungry. I want to start making stews and casseroles. I flip through my Betty Crocker cookbook and dream of all the wonderful things I will cook. It’s such an art: food preparation. I have a little desire to domesticate; it’s strange to admit because I was always the little anti-everything. But if I didn’t allow myself to grow due to prejudices from my past I would be rather stupid. Thus my reason for trying mushrooms. Although I’m still not going to try fish

What we've done so far

2009-05-23T18:46:00.000-07:00

Not the best picture, but this is the field before we started

and the transformation along the way

and we're still working

leah

Energy from the sun

2009-05-22T19:19:00.000-07:00

We have now planted eighteen beds and one very long row. We are still at it too, a few more rows, and I’m just throwing seeds all over the place. Our garden might not be picturesque and perfectly manicured, just as long as it is functional. Also, I’ve been thinking about it lately, man has been cultivating crops for at least the past 10,000 years, and up until about 100 years ago most people did. And way back then, they didn’t have near the tools or knowledge that we now have, and they made it work. So I think I can make it work. Although it is arrogant of me to claim we have more knowledge than they did. Who knows, maybe there was some great cosmic knowledge that they had access to, that we have since lost.
As an example, Ed and I watched the movie Rabbit Proof Fence the other night. There’s an aboriginal tracker in the movie, and the signs that he could follow, along with the knowledge of how to survive in the wild, that we as humans just don’t seem to know anymore. I’ve always loved the image of a tracker, being able to follow the signs that even the most careful walker leaves behind them.
But more than that, and about the garden, even before human intervention and cultivation of these plants, they grew naturally. I mean, how else would they have had the option to grow them? And things grow, everywhere. So we are not going to baby our garden, these plants have to be tough.
Okay, so I’ve heard the argument that since humans have been cultivating such plants that their genetic makeup has changed so that they could not survive in the wild without human intervention. I don’t know about this, I mean, are there still wild tomatoes? Maybe not, but still… well, I better get weeding. Have a nice day.

Trouble in paradise

2009-05-21T17:59:00.000-07:00

Riding lawnmowers must be the county’s favorite pastime, it’s a way to get to spend time in their yard without having to walk around the place. Yep, lawn-mowing, it’s what we do for fun around here, and the grass grows so very fast.
There is a lot going on behind the scenes, and I haven’t had the desire to write much, but not writing does leave something lacking within myself. So in a way my current funk is like my common phrase, “You do it to yourself”.
So here is the question, knowing as I do that a certain person may read my blog, is it wise to air my grievances against them? When the two options are appeasement or blow out, which is the better option? It’s all in the details I suppose. Ah details, details… and without going into further details, let me just say that we understand how Harry felt, living at the Dursley’s, under the staircase. It’s not good.
We also have come to the conclusion that we have been taking on too much, and just stressing ourselves out in the process. Jumping off the high-dive platform into the deep end without knowing how to swim, while a bunch of people standing around the edge of the pool, who also don’t know how to swim, are yelling instructions at you on how to do it. We are going to slow down and choose the next step on our path carefully. We cancelled our chicken order. It’s not the right time. We are going to be focusing solely on the garden, and getting to know, if we can, the state of Oregon and its people. We have come to realize that there are certain aspects of our living situation here that we don’t think we can handle long-term. We would like a shower of our own one day, a workable kitchen, space and autonomy. And we also don’t think that we are ready to be tied to a specific piece of land, in the way that livestock ties one to the land. Ed and I have just a little too much gypsy in us for that, and when we think about it, our little home is on wheels. There is too much we haven’t seen in our country, let alone the world, to landlock ourselves so. The one thing we must always remember is there are always options. This is both frightening and liberating. So we are back to the drawing board, considering options.

While the cats are away…

2009-05-17T08:11:00.000-07:00

Carol and Grant have left the farm! They are gone for three days down to San Francisco for a granddaughter’s college graduation. It’s been very nice and peaceful with them gone, except we have to take care of their dogs. Their three little Shi-Tzus do not like Jackie at all. They growl and snap at him, and Jackie, who just wants to play, is already jumping circles around them. It’s rather amusing to watch. We are trying to teach Jackie to behave, even though the three other dogs don’t. In fact, none of my in-laws animals are trained. The miniature horses sure aren’t trained, and sometimes Weldon really freaks me out giving me an evil eye look and baring his teeth at me.
We’ve still been breaking our backs trying to pull up sod, put down beds and start planting. The past few days we have started the day off in pain, while attempting hard labor, ending up in more pain, only to try it again tomorrow. It really does not matter what position my body is in, standing, sitting or laying, every one of my joints and muscles ache. We know it will not be such hard labor every year. Once the beds are made, they will stay that way. We’ve planted our tomatoes (finally!) and I’ve thrown some seeds into the ground: corn, bell peppers, pumpkin, cucumbers, and am hoping for the best.
Also there is a crazy root system in the next field we plan to expand our garden into, that I have been pulling up. I think it is a blackberry plant. I’ve had fun trying to pull it up, it criss-crosses all over the field, but every so often I get a root that will peel up for a good long while. It’s very satisfying.
I haven’t felt like writing much, I haven’t felt like anything much. I keep on thinking that this will get easier, but it doesn’t get easier.

Explorations in Self-Identity

2009-05-12T15:52:00.000-07:00

I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, I wonder who I’ve been feeling like. I haven’t been recognizing myself either; maybe I haven’t been looking at myself enough. But I’ve been so busy! The farm, my relationship with my husband, and the new dog have been demanding all my attention, so I haven’t had much time to look at myself and what I’m becoming, and to think about that. Adulthood-ness, or as Ed would say ‘You’re not a spring chicken anymore.’ I’m not lamenting my youth, or youth in general. Indeed, I think that our current youth-driven culture gives up a lot of aged wisdom. (I also believe the cultural tide is turning, hopefully to a place where both youth and age are seen for their contribution to society.) It’s more of a ‘what I thought I would be, compared to what I am’ crisis. But the funny thing is I never really had an image of what I wanted to be as an adult. I was rebellious for many of my formative years (not that I’ve completed my formation) and never gave the matter much thought, the big ‘when I grow up’ question. I don’t want to grow up! But want to or not, due to the linear nature of time we experience on this planet, growing up happens. So here I am, sitting in front of the Airstream trailer that I call home, on a farm in Oregon. I think that so far I’ve done just fine navigating my life, but that’s my own humble opinion.

Digging in the dirt

2009-05-11T20:54:00.000-07:00

Every night, out our bedroom window, we have been looking over a beautiful grass yard, and have been dreaming of a garden. And now is the time that the transformation begins. For the past four days we’ve been pulling up sod. It’s breaking our backs and covering us with dirt. At the end of the day, when we look over the ground, more brown than green now, we feel a little sore, completely exhausted, and blissfully proud. Our baby steps are adding up, and we keep having to tell ourselves that we are not behind. The ground is just warming up, and we’ll be planting by the weekend, we are exactly where we should be. It’s paradise here, at least I believe it to be so, when I stand up to catch my breath and I look out over the green hills and feel the breeze toss my hair, drying the sweat off my neck. My fingernails are crusted with dirt, and my hands covered in blisters. I look at them and think ‘I need a manicure’ and then I think ‘I’m a long way from Beverly Hills now’. I’m starting to see the age in my face. Hey, I’m not 22 anymore, I’m not even 25 anymore. I’m looking in on 29. Okay, so my birthday is a few months away, but I think about it sometimes, and every year I come to the same conclusion. I feel I have enough life experience to be 29, and I don’t feel as old as I thought 29 would feel. I ran this by my mom one time, and she said ‘I don’t feel as old as I thought 55 would feel’. It’s good to know.
So I commented on how there is no greener grass, but there is browner dirt! And I think we have some good soil. The grass roots are deep, and I fight with them to come up, it’ll be an on-going battle. There are lots of worms in the ground, and lots of mushrooms. We don’t know much about mushrooms, but Ed has become very interested in them. We can’t wait to learn all about them and go hunting for them.

There is no greener grass.

2009-05-04T20:46:00.000-07:00

Just different shades of green and they all need dirt to grow in. It’s been a week since I’ve been back home full-time on the farm. And while I was consumed with all the agony that a horrible job can produce, it was easy to forget that there were also anxieties on the farm as well. It’s not all sunshine and lollipops; in fact there is little sunshine and no lollipops.
The farm is not easy, but we haven’t had much time for farming, as most of the last week was dedicated to organizing a garage/barn sale, trying to sell off stuff and make some room in the barn. Carol was a professional doll maker for 20 years, and she collected dolls and stuffed animals during that time, so there were crates and crates of stuffed animals and beanie babies and dolls. Crates and crates! And my mother-in-law is particular in ways that my logic and reasoning fail to comprehend, and this made collaborating with her on such an undertaking at times frustrating and tedious. But as an anthropological study, it is interesting to see who comes to yard sales and what they buy there. Carol kept on commenting on how people buy the weirdest stuff at yard sales, and I said, but you bought it first. Not everything sold, I’d say maybe half of it sold, the rest will go to the Salvation Army and Goodwill. Then there is the other side of the doll making business which involves the molds, and Carol has hundreds of them. Since these are a specialty item, we’re going to try to sell them on e-bay.
Even though farming is not easy, and it’s hard labor, we enjoy it. Right now it’s still raining and cold. I mean, we still can’t plant outside yet anyway! We have been reading up on the subject, and the Pacific Northwest has a peculiar growing season, and this year, according to local folk, winter is dragging its heels a little harder than usual. I mean, we don’t mind the rain, but we don’t want to be out pulling up sod in it. And it’s May, come on, does it still have to be grey and rainy all the time? Maybe I’m spoiled too much from the desert, and Ed’s from SoCal, but really, does it still have to be so cold? I want to wear my flip-flops! I don’t want to have to put on five layers! I understand that the growing season extends late into the fall, but we have been worried about our crops having enough time to mature.
To throw another monkey wrench into the works, we got a puppy. Little Jackie, and we love him! He is time consuming right now, and we have to house train him. Which he’s been doing really good at, but no little puppy is perfect, and he further crowds an already crowded living space. Jackie is very smart, and within a week he is following basic commands, without us really trying to train him. He is also a precious little love muffin, who curls up with us, and he’s a fearless tiger, keeping all the goats in line. What a dynamic dog.

my photo essay

2009-04-27T08:29:00.000-07:00

Our Boy Jackie

the proud parents

Hail, in the middle of April!

The misty morning

and the golden afternoon

The plum tree coming to life, after we pruned it way back.

So all in all, it's a good spring!

Ba Ba Black Sheep

2009-04-23T22:30:00.000-07:00

The sheep were sheared. It was a very interesting process to watch. The shearer, Steve, who we found via Craigslist, was good folk. He put himself through college shearing sheep. As we were watching him I was amazed at how much work it is. The sheep do not want to be sheared, so one must dominate the sheep. Not in a mean way, just in a controlling way. So first you have to hold it down, then you have to shave it. He started under the front legs, moved down the belly and the rear legs, then he swept up to the head and back, the whole time these thick clumps of wool were falling to the ground.
I think I could shear a sheep, but I don’t think I could fight to hold it down the whole time, animals are strong.
I picked up the wool, after Steve was done, and put it in a bag. There was a subtle oil quality, a silky fluffiness. So now we have two bags (I was hoping to get three bags) of wool; one white, one black, and we don’t know what to do with them. I was considering trying to make wool socks, but I can neither spin wool nor knit.
Also the sheep are a lot smaller than I thought they were, they don’t look all big and bad now, just scared little sheep.

The view from my office window

2009-04-21T19:08:00.000-07:00

It's way too beautiful of a day outside. Humans aren’t meant to spend such pleasant days inside; it’s time to frolic, play and go for a picnic. Or put in some hard hours behind the plow, satisfying and sunburnt.
We turned the compost again Saturday, it’s amazing how fast the time goes while we work, and before I know it we’ve been at it for three hours. Ed and I take turns at pitch forking all the compost out of the bin, and rearranging the piles back again. Three piles condensed down to two, and we think the oldest pile is completely done, because it’s not heating up past 85°. We had thrown three dead Koi from Grant’s koi pond, into the pile, and we were both very excited to see how much they had decomposed. They were 99% gone, we came across a little bit of the fish skin, but nothing close to a half-rotten fish head I was expecting to find. The compost is still Ed’s baby. (Until we get our Jack Russell, of course, which Ed said we can once I’m back home full time, (one week to go, one week to go…) We are amazed at how much waste we can recycle in this manner. To join the earth in creating the perfect circle of death, which begets life, which will inevitably result in death. For everything that is living must die. I hope when I die, that they throw me into a big compost pile. Or into the ocean.
I was thinking about modern burial practices, that the plot is lined with cement and the body is laid in a steal box that’s not going to decompose any time soon. Is that how far human’s have tried to remove themselves from the natural cycle? We don’t even want our bodies, after our soul has left them, to return to the earth? We want to preserve them, but we’ll never do as good a job as the ancient Egyptians did. And I was thinking about the archaeologist who might be excavating some graveyards hundreds of years from now, and what sort of explanation they will come up with on why humans buried each other this way. I was also thinking that if all people, from all time and space had buried their dead in this fashion, there would be no usable land left, as it would all be used up for graves.
But for now, sitting at my desk, contemplating the future, I am just waiting, till the end of the day, when I can run out of the office and through the fields. That’s where I’m supposed to be. Running through the fields.

Two weeks notice

2009-04-20T18:37:00.001-07:00

We were driving back from Tucson and as soon as we hit the Oregon border I realized that I was already dreading going back to work. As nerve-racking as it is, I’d rather be broke than become suicidal going to a job I hate.
So I walked into the office, first thing Tuesday morning and said. “I’m giving my two weeks notice, I thank you for the opportunity but I came to the conclusion that I am neither doing myself or the corporation any good by remaining in your employment.” I had my hand shaken and was on my way. I didn’t say this to them, but I understand part of this decision was based on my philosophical disagreement with the financial institutions and the monetary based society that we operate in. I was a receptionist at a Brokerage firm and I realized I can’t work to support a system I disagree with. I can say no thank you in good conscience.
The probationary period of any employment is not only a time for the company to decide if they like the person, but also for the person to decide if they like the company. We somehow overlook the last half of that equation, bogged down in the thought that we ‘need’ a company to employ us. But it is not only about looking to someone else to give you opportunity, it is also about looking to create your own opportunity. Not to deny the instability of the current economic crisis, but where there is great risk, there is also great room for growth and reward. So, I don’t feel I need the stability of a bi-monthly paycheck. I think what Ed and I want to accomplish on the farm is worth it, worth the hard work, worth the instability. It is much more personally satisfying than sitting at a desk, waiting for the phone to ring. It felt like a bad Friday night in High School all over again.

The 5 to the 10, and back again

2009-04-14T17:49:00.000-07:00

It was a lot of hours in the car, probably more time in the car than not. But that’s okay, and at the road weary end of the day, it was well worth it. Number one reason: It was the first time we had seen Hannah (Ed’s 16 year old daughter) since we left LA. Number two reason: My mom was hosting the family reunion and we had promised months ago, before the job loss and consequential chaos, that we would be there. So we headed to the homestead in Tucson, Arizona. It was a trip down memory lane, at times soul-searching, nostalgic and pensive, it took me to a lot of places. And most of them were good.
The first driving stint from here to Stockton, CA where we crashed for a few hours in a Motel 6, had me staring out the window looking at the giant metal women stoically carrying the wires that connect all of us. All of a sudden I was a little girl again, and my folks had thrown us in the car for some 14 hour drive to grandma’s house. Being a child, with limitless dreams and potential, and an imagination as varied as the landscapes we would drive past. Being a child, just riding in a car, wondering where you will go when it is your turn to drive. And I say to that child, that neither in your wildest dreams or worst nightmares, can you ever truly imagine what lies in store for you down the road of life. The only thing you can control is your reaction to life.
I had a good childhood, some turbulence in my teens, as well as when I walked away from certain beliefs, but I think I’ve made peace with my past, at least momentarily.
It was really good to see my family, both nuclear and extended. My dad showed us around his garden, pointing out his new almond tree. He gave us some watermelon and sunflower seeds. My mama gave us a painting of a mama bird and her seven little birds sitting in a tree. We talked up our family farm, and everyone loved the name, and had advice about chicken keeping and gardening. Family are good people.
We are putting Hannah in charge of creating our logo, she wants to go into graphic design so we said get to work. I was pleasantly surprised at how agreeable Hannah was during the event, and how she took to participating with my family. She just turned 16 so we took her out driving around my old neighborhood. It’s nerve-wracking and wonderful to see her coming into adulthood with the milestones along the way. And she almost totalled the car only once or twice.
Much of the trip was spent in discussions of the farm, and my job that I’m still not liking. Weighing the Pros and Cons of being miserable to earn money. The Cons won, so I came in today and gave my two weeks notice. It would be too hard for Ed to try to get the farm business running all by himself, and we figured that now is the time to follow our dreams.
Make it work, people. Ed says I’m a silly girl. And I say, I am a silly girl. But I want to hold your hand and play in the dirt. And once you’ve said that, there is nothing left to say.

Bird’s Nest Family Farm

2009-04-07T21:25:00.000-07:00

It’s been growing, gradually, in thought and in the ground. Shall we say ‘called’? Maybe, but the answer has been right in front of us, it is disturbing that it took us so long to say it. We’ve been talking around the subject for months, years really, and are now realizing both our histories have brought us here. Ed said, “Once you figure out what you want to do, not doing it is a waste of your time.” I’ve been denying what I want to do, although I’ve been saying it all along, which is write. Well, not denying, but not focusing on it. Farming will be an extension of writing, or more precisely, what I write about.
Ed, more so than I, has been taking this time to ask the question: what do I do with my life? I’m in a different position than him; I can take an entry level job. While it’s a slight step down, it’s appropriate for me to be a receptionist. Ed is at the other end of the scale, he has been a partner in his last two companies. He’s not going to get a job at a front desk making $25k, and that’s not the point. Where is the heart?
So, we are going to incorporate, market the family farm. There’s a lot of work to be done here, the place has been falling apart, and there is five years of dust in parts of the barn. But we are cleaning up, taking inventory and being imaginative.
It’s just the more we read, and the more we listen to the undercurrent of society, that there has been a whisper that has been growing louder these past 40 years, and it has filled our little valley here and lifted our spirits. Where does our food come from? What is this process, of living and growing and dying, transferring life from one form to the next? We have attempted to remove ourselves from the cycle, to our own detriment. Just another organism crawling around the surface. We need to re-immerse ourselves in nature, to work harmoniously with it, not in our arrogance, fight against it, or try to control it. All animal life lives by eating other life forms. I want to live, therefore I must eat. Okay. What we choose to eat, and how we choose to eat it, are the next questions. Questions questions, or really, options options. When I was a little girl, we ate dinner every night around the table, the whole lot of us. And I liked it, the kitchen table. A kitchen table was one of the things I insisted upon when Ed and I were establishing our home in Los Angeles. He, in his adult life never had a kitchen table, and I said ‘Where do you eat breakfast?’ and he said, ‘I don’t eat breakfast’. I’m filing this one under: What’s wrong with the world today? Unfortunately, our dinner table doesn’t fit in the Airstream.
Eating, especially around camp fires and dinner tables, are things our ancestors had been doing for ages. We’re out of touch and out of balance, time to go back to what we know and trust, the ground. But we need to act fast, because we are losing knowledge, along with cultivation traditions. But not too fast, because things need time to grow. Like our garden, our family farm.
As we learn more, about eating locally and seasonally and ethically, the more sense it all makes, and the more peaceful we feel. It’s an excited peace, excited about making this, our dream and our goals, reality. Plans have been laid, now they must be set into motion. Full-steam ahead.

Curmudgeon Philosophies 101

2009-04-05T21:07:00.000-07:00

Okay. So that’s what I’m going to be doing here, I better just resign myself. What is life all about, you know? Why do we spend our time and our days chasing someone else’s dream? Why did I turn myself in? And who are the authorities anyway? We agree to such laws and by-laws, even if it’s just a tacit agreement: being born into it. Can you help but be obliged by the society you are born into? The one we inhabit is a monetary-based system, and I don’t know if I agree with that. But how do you opt out? I mean what are the opting out options? First, you have to live somewhere; if you’re breathing your physical body exists in space somewhere. And to carve a living off the land you must have some claim to land which you can cultivate. Well, if all the land that is possible to live on, is owned by someone else, then one must have enough resources and enough participation in the system in order to purchase it. That means money. The thing that gets me is that there is no new land just to be had. I can’t go exploring and set up a homestead somewhere. Any land there is to be had, is already held by private individuals or the government. So as much as I would like to go set up camp somewhere in Yosemite, or Yellowstone, well I can’t, it’s illegal. And if I squat on someone’s private land and they find me doing this, I could be evicted or shot. So where is a person to go? The family homestead passed down from one generation to the next, passed me up, or has been divided so many ways that there is not a big enough plot for me to sleep on.
Something’s got to give: the current system, culture and/or society. People have it figured all wrong. We have, as a species, slowly moved away from the earth and the environment which we inhabit and which provides us life. And it’s the only earth we have. The funny thing to me, is that even if we kill ourselves off, which is what we are doing, the earth will still be here, spinning in space, and life will still be growing on it. It just won’t be human life. Well, maybe some humans, in far off corners of the globe who live off the grid and off the beaten path, might survive. I don’t care if I’m one of them to be honest. I’d just as soon keel over, really. I mean, what is so great about living? It is neither honorable nor noble; in fact, humans can be the lowest of the low when it comes to how we treat each other. What happened to live and let live? Instead we lie, cheat and steal from each other, our own community, and our neighbors just to feel a little better about ourselves for having more possessions, or a bigger house. But you know what? Our kids will still grow up to be drug addicts, your spouse will cheat on you, and no-one will come to your funeral. So what was it worth? Did you enjoy your time? Or were you too busy to notice if you enjoyed it or not? Think your thoughts for yourself. Well, here is where I’m going to stop. I’ll think some more about some different things.

With a spring in my step

2009-04-05T15:20:00.001-07:00

I survived my second week of work; it’ll probably end up being okay. Some of my friends were teasing me for complaining that I’m getting paid to sit there and answer the phone when it rings. Actually, I was told that I can read a book, as long as I am getting all the work done. So Ed and I decided that I should use the time to research sustainable living.
I finished reading Animal, Vegetable… and it changed my life. Well, it might, if I can implement some of the ideas. I’ve come to this many times before, but it breaks down: the more we can produce for our own consumption, the less we have to obtain to sustain ourselves. And in the book, Barbra breaks down the act, baking bread and making cheese and canning enough tomatoes to last all winter. Ed and I are getting excited and thinking more and more precisely about how to utilize this land. At the same time we are looking into the local food movement and decided that the ultimate would be for both of us to be full-time farmers. To be able to offer a little bit of everything, veggies and eggs for sale, compost and goat cheese, soap and pork tenderloin. We think we’ll name our farm ‘The Bird’s Nest’, and I’ll continue to work away from the farm, until we feel we can compensate for that loss of income. That’s when we agreed to get my dog, a Jack Russell terrier. At least that’s what Ed said.
I was trying to hit up my mom for her book on canning and some canning equipment, but she told me to scram. Actually, we are driving down to Arizona on Wednesday for my family reunion. We’ll want to check out my dad’s garden, pick his brain.
We ordered our chicks. They will be arriving around April 20th. We chose 2 breeds, Dominique and New Hampshire Reds. They are dual purpose, for eggs and meat, and we plan to use them for both purposes, as well as breed them.
The grass is growing, the days are getting warmer, and the plans are falling into place. Ed and I walk around the property, and feel that we are where we should be.

Even in the rain, you got to do your chores

2009-03-30T17:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it wasn’t raining while we were doing our chores but it did start raining right after.
I haven’t done the chores with Ed for a week. And man, five minutes into it I was getting sore. Farming is hard work. And I kept forgetting the cleaning routine. But it was good. We are starting to think that we like the goats the best. The little pygmy’s are really cute. We’ve started using the goats and sheep as lawn mowers by moving them to different areas of the pasture everyday. We are going to tie them up by the blackberry bushes soon, let them eat their way through that. Back in the barn, Ed and I cleaned up the stalls, throwing all the manure and used hay into the wheel barrel.
We decided that it was time to turn the compost again. We have been throwing daily barn waste on top of the two piles for three weeks, but the piles never seemed to get any larger. Both piles had heated up to about 130° over the past couple weeks, but were beginning to decrease in temperature, so we figured we’d turn them.
It’s hard work! A square yard of finished compost weighs about a thousand pounds. We have probably 2 or 2 1/2 square yards, but it’s not finished breaking down. It took us about three hours to move all the compost out of the bins and rearrange them. But within a few hours of turning the compost the second pile was up to 140°! Ed is very excited about this. The compost is his baby, he goes over to look at it a few times everyday, just wondering what microbial bacteria activity is going on in there.
Second and third minor farming activities that we accomplished this weekend: We transplanted the starter tomatoes from egg cartons to Dixie cups. It was fun and dirty, and Ed and I kept claiming that we each had the better way of transplanting the tomato seedlings. And we built deer nets around our apple trees, so they don’t eat the little buds, that are growing bigger and bigger everyday.
By the end of all this, we were both brain dead and body tired. It was really good to be doing the chores with Ed.

The 40-hour work week

2009-03-29T12:47:00.000-07:00

I haven’t pulled a 40-hour work week in three months. What a shock to the system!
Like any 40-hour work week at a new job, this entry will be long, unfocused, slightly overwhelming, and occasionally boring.
First, a morning routine: Wake up, get out of bed, oh that’s the hard part, it’s still dark outside, and the bed is so soft and Ed is warm. There is no shower in the Ellie Mae, so we have to sneak into the house, all quiet-like because Grant and Carol are still asleep, get ready and cook breakfast. Juggling all the way.
Depending on the item, we either keep our possessions in the Airstream, the house, or boxed up in the barn. Our farm clothes, kitchen items and books are in the trailer, our business clothes and tomato seedlings are in the house, everything else is in the barn. So we have a little wicker basket to carry everything into the house, which we pile up with our toothbrushes and our eggs, and it’s cold in the morning, but we’re getting used to it. Ed makes coffee while I shower.
Business clothes are different than farm clothes, but I like wearing them. Although by the end of the day, I’m glad to take them off. Farm clothes are the same two pair of jeans that are covered in mud, but business clothes are lined trousers and pressed cotton button-ups. Different costumes for my different lives, but both me.
I didn’t have a good business wardrobe. My company in Beverly Hills was small, and we did not have heavy walk-in traffic, the dress was “business casual”. My clothes were okay, but they would not be acceptable at my new office, which is “business professional”. There is a lot of client interaction at my new job and I’m the receptionist. So we bowed to the inevitable and went shopping. I’m not a big shopper, I say it’s because I was never taught how to shop, it is an art. Well, with the assistance of Robbin, the Outlets, and a killer one day sale, I was able to get a very solid foundation of business attire which I can build on.
Ed is so funny, he’s the dreamer in our marriage, I’m the practical one, one minute I’m hearing him whisk my career off, moving rapidly up the rungs of the corporation, till I’m running the show and rolling in the dough. The next breath he’s painting the picture of us walking our goats out to the pasture, weeding our garden, carving our living out of the jam and salsa we will sell. We decided that our ultimate goal is to have a lot of small streams of revenue. That way if you lose one, which we learned first hand can happen, it will not be as detrimental. The other sources of income we’ve discussed, would be me providing personal bookkeeping services to individuals, and eventually me publishing a book.
The flaws in the current monetary based system we as a society operate on, and the excitement of seeing how much food we can produce for ourselves, which will decrease our need for money, are ideas that are always in our conversations, I think I’ve touched on those subjects before, which doesn’t mean that I won’t again. In the end, the existentialist in me say’s, “thems’ are the policies and procedures of our society, and all of the philosophy doesn’t change the reality”. Reality being that while this property has a lot of potential and infrastructure, it also has a mortgage.

Where was I? Getting ready for work. I kiss my husband goodbye and jump into the car. Ed has to open the gate for me so I can exit the property. The drive into town is amazing, I have a seven mile drive over half forest, half pasture and hills on county lanes. And the sun is just coming up, heating the low clouds and fog out of the little valleys. And then I walk into the office.
Completely different story real quick, I drove around the country by myself after graduating U of A, (2 months, 11,000 miles). When I was driving through South Dakota, this place called Wall Drug was recommended to me as the oldest most interesting road side drug store in the state. So I marked it on my map, and I spent the first part of the day driving out of the Black Hills, taking the back way to the Badlands, where I wandered around as the only soul in sight. Only to leave the serenity of nature for an over-crowded, cluttered, noisy, campy souvenir shop and café, with screaming children and overweight adults pushing their way down the aisles. Well, this is similar to the loss of tranquility I experience when I leave the solitude of my car and walk into an office, where I don’t know where anything is, or how to do anything. But more on that point later. (the story of my travels is the premise of another book I hope to one day write).
How long does it take to become accustomed? Can we create an equation, where the variable is what one is being accustomed to? Although I resisted it at first, and I didn’t really notice the transformation, I’ve become accustomed to our routine around here. Taking care of the animals, being with my husband, playing in the compost, planting trees, and planning ahead, and spending time with Ed. We’d been spoiled, and now I’m going through withdrawls. From my desk at work I can see the sun breaking upon a rugged green slope and I wonder how the tomatoes and Ed are doing. How long will it take for me to become accustomed to my new environment in the office?
First I have to learn the routine, become familiar with the company and the office dynamics. My new company, which we will call ‘The Corp’, was a large entity bought by a big national corporation, which was then bought by an even larger national corporation. So all of the office protocol and computer applications, and paperwork policies had just changed about a month before I started, and ‘The Corp” has received notice that in about a year the merger with the bigger national corporation will start, and everything will change again. Because the poor co-worker trying to train me just had everything changed on her a month ago, half the time she’s not sure what the correct procedures are.
I began to ponder about the merging of companies and assets, and it’s a lot more work than just simply proclaiming, “hey, we are one big company now”, or “hey, we own you now.” There is redundancy and wrinkles that need to be ironed out. There is also computer systems and databases that need to be combined or eliminated, new training for employees, or the termination of other team members. It takes a long time.
I’ve never worked for a large corporation before. I’ve worked for the state government, (Arizona State Schools for the Deaf and the Blind) and I’ve worked for small business owners. The company I worked for in Beverly Hills was a 3 person operation. We weren’t bogged down in policy and procedure. We called the shots and rolled with the punches. In fact, I was alone in the office 40% of the time, on my toes, bouncing around, getting shit done. And I liked it! I like having so much work to do that you think there is no way you will ever be able to finish it all. I like being challenged and facing each new problem head on. Except when it comes to filing, I don’t care for filing that much.
Well, at ‘The Corp’ we have to fax every decision we make, before we make it to corporate headquarters somewhere in Iowa, so the person at the other end of the fax machine can stamp approval on it and fax it back. This wastes a lot of time and a lot of paper. Much of the work that I will be doing requires me to navigate their computer programs, so I must sit through hours of computer training. Because of the corporate system I must take all this training under my login ID, which for the first half of the week was not being recognized by the system. So I was shipped a new computer which I could log onto, but once logged on I did not have access to half of the needed applications, and none of the training programs. The few applications I do have access to have a different ID code, that you have to enter to complete an order, and of course I have not received this ID code. Finally, my computer is not on the printer network, so I can’t even print out address labels.
So I stare at a computer screen that won’t allow me to do anything, or I stare out the window, thinking what a nice day outside, and thinking about what needs to be done around the farm. It’s my first week of work, and I’m bored. That’s bad, it’s bad for my mental health and it’s bad for my work performance. I’m going to grin and bare it, and I hope it gets better and the pace picks up, because I need to earn $$, But what is the trade off? We are always trading one thing for something else, and usually it is our time, or our own better judgment.

Got a job

2009-03-19T16:24:00.000-07:00

I am now officially no longer unemployed. After ten weeks of looking and hoping, I finally received an offer of employment. I start Monday.
Hmmm, these past few weeks and all the time being on the farm with Ed are starting to look a little idyllic. And I’m kind of jealous that he will be doing the bulk of the farm work. I mean, we love our compost piles and we check the temperature everyday, (we got a thermometer) and the piles are sitting at about 110°. We have a system now where we take the animal water buckets (we have to change their water every other day or so) to use for watering the apple trees, (they are looking great and are starting to bud) and the grapes, (four out of the six transplants look like they survived) and once we get it going, the garden. But now Ed is going to have to do the work all on his own. Except for the weekends, when I’ll help. There will be plenty of daylight hours once I get home to work on the garden. But Ed is going to have more time with it, and that makes me jealous.
At least until Ed gets a job, which he is still looking for.

Thoughts on the matter

2009-03-18T10:33:00.001-07:00

After a few days of rain we are able to sit outside and build a fire. Which Ed is now poking. He won’t let me have the poker, because he says I poke the fire too much, let too much heat out. And I say, it’s a fire, it’s already hot.
My friend, Alicia, recommended a book for me, and I’m always up for good book recommendations. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I’m only twenty pages into the book but I’m loving it. First, she comes from Tuscon, Az., just like me! And her family’s goal was to live for one year on their farm in southwest Virginia on what they could grow and produce themselves, or obtain locally.
There is an entire thought process organically growing (pardon the pun) amongst the population, that global agri-business is not the way we should be getting our nourishment. Buying packaged goods that in no way resemble the calories that make them up. I was walking through the grocery store the other day, and was looking at all the canned tomato products, sliced and diced and sauced and pasted. I’m going to grow tomatoes this year, I hope, if my seeds ever germinate, and I’m worried about them. Why couldn’t I make all these products for myself? My mom always cans every summer when my dad’s garden is pumping out 40 pounds of tomatoes every day. She makes wonderful salsa. Alicia cans, and she said she would help me. Tomatoes, that could be all my sauces for the year. Tomatoes. Then I walked past the tortillas, I eat a lot of tortillas. I bet I could make them myself, right? I’ll let my corn dry on the cob, then grind it and fry it up. Pastas and breads, well I can’t grow wheat here, but I could still try to make my own. And I’m starting to think I could grow rice here, if I made a rice paddy and kept it covered with water. The more I can grow and make myself the less I have to buy, and I’d like to walk out of the grocery store without dropping $150.
I’ve always had this dream of cooking out of a fifty pound bag of flour and rice. And walking into the kitchen and throwing the flour up against the wall, and coming out with a four course meal.
Why not?
All I really lack is the know-how and the elbow room, but I want to learn, so I think I will.

On a different note, Ed and I enjoyed the last of the national media attention in the form of a “News To Me” segment that aired on Headline News this past weekend. Unfortunately, the show has been cancelled and I think we were the last broadcast.
Ed and I debated for a while about whether I should post the link, or whether that was too much self-promotion. But then again, what is self-promotion and is it a bad thing? Well we came to the conclusion that for the sake of the blog, and archiving reasons, that I would post the link. Also, this is our favorite interview, we think that it’s well rounded and an honest depiction of our living situation.
http://www.cnn.com/video/?/video/bestoftv/2009/03/16/ntm.from.90210.to.shoveling.manure.cnn

Third time's a charm

2009-03-15T14:58:00.000-07:00

So for the third time, we have rearranged our living room. We brought in an end table we had, and set my computer up on it. This works so much better. I was stooping over before to work on my computer, now I'm able to sit up straight and I can see my screen better. And I have my little desk area. It also opens up space on our coffee table which doubles as a kitchen table whenever I cook.

We are continually evaluating how we use this space, since there is so little of it. But we are both starting to feel very comfortable living in our Airstream.

seeds and trees

2009-03-12T17:06:00.001-07:00

As I was talking to my friends, Robbin and Alicia, they both said to me, “Territorial Seeds, Territorial Seeds.” So today Ed and I went to Territorial Seeds. Back up, yesterday we bought apple trees at Home Depot. Braeburn, Gala and Fugi. This morning we drove up to Cottage Grove to go to Territorial Seeds. It was a smaller store than we expected, well maybe not, as we did not know what to expect. What astonished me was the wide variety of tomato seeds, there must have been fifty different kinds of tomatoes. But none of them were named Roma. So I guessed, and grabbed two different varieties. Ed also grabbed two varieties of tomatoes and we didn’t really compare the seeds we had picked out till we got home. So we ended up with four types of tomatoes, two lettuces, two corns, two cucumbers, two carrots, two potatoes, some onion, watermelon and radishes. I still want to get some strawberries. I feel like there is still more seeds I should have got that I think we should be growing. But I also think that I’ll have a decent sized garden.
The area size is 20’ x 60’, but the ten feet at the back is where the compost is, so we have 20’ x 50’ for planting room. This breaks down to twenty rows of 8 feet by about two feet, and having a walking or watering row on either side of the planting row.
Also, as I mentioned, Ed and I bought three apple trees. And we planted them. Digging in the dirt is physically taxing but immensely satisfying work. Here we go:

growing the small farm

2009-03-11T08:42:00.000-07:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/11/opinion/11hayes.html

Here is a opinion piece about that piece of legislation my friend Robbin was telling me about. It's a national ID program for livestock. Which I suppose would include our goats and sheep, even though they are just pets. This would aid in locating any food posioning outbreaks. at least that is their justification.

I don't like it, It smells funny. I mean, my compost pile doesn't smell that bad, and it's full of manure. Ed and I are really liking our compost pile, since reading about it and turning it, we go look at it everyday, but that is not the point.

It's right up there with patenting fruit trees. It's wrong. One of the basic rights of being a human on this planet, is the ability, if one has the inclination, to produce thier own food, and barter their extra production with their neighborhood. The nice couple down the street, who are trying to supplement their income by selling firewood and baking pies, would have to register their cow.

Again, I'm still processing all of this information, and I'm not sure what to do with it.

Gathering Wisdom and Garbage

2009-03-10T16:45:00.000-07:00

So further up I-5 we drove, towards Corvallis. But we passed the exit, and for ten miles I was saying, “I think we passed the exit.” Oh well, what is ten more miles on a road trip? I have spent some time in Corvallis, and it’s a rad little town. My friend’s dad, Mr. Leytem, has a deli there. (Natalias and Cristoforo’s Authentic Italian Deli, best deli in Corvallis). But don’t call him Mr. Leytem, call him Greg.
I’ve known Alicia for 12 years, we were both Rotary exchange students to Finland. Her family came over to visit her there one time, and I showed them around Turku (the town I lived by) for the day. This is how they all remember me, the girl from Turku.
We pull up to the deli, and outside is a Girl Scout selling cookies. This was an omen that we’d be having a good day. I’ve been saying for a month, that it’s Girl Scout cookie time, and I want some Thin Mints. I only bought two boxes, which was not enough, and I had to threaten Ed with divorce if he ate any.
Over some wonderful sandwiches, Alicia shows up at the deli, and says, “hey come check out my house.” A little background on Alicia, she got her degree (cum laude) in Botany from Oregon State University. I remember coming to visit her once, just before she graduated, and she would pull pictures of fungal DNA strands out of her pocket and start telling me about them. DNA was never my strong area (I had to study human DNA in Anthropology) and I would soon be left behind in a trail of words. Well, she is currently applying for grad school at OSU, has already been acccepted into the Soil Sciences department, but is hoping for the Botany department. She took us around her house, showing us her compost pile, her soon to be chicken coop, her garden area, and her cellar full of canned goods where she pressed plum jam, kiwi jam and sweet pepper relish on us. All very good.
Alicia started to tell us about the project she might work on which examines parasitic plants, whose root system attacks the root systems of other plants, causing major crop failure in Africa. I am paraphrasing here, and using a fungus to combat the parasitic plant. At least that’s what I understood her to say. Then she started to tell me about how to grow potatoes, which are one of the plants I’m most looking forward to growing. She had a starter potato, as she went seed shopping the day before, and calmly explained how you would cut the starter potato in three places, let it sit in a paper bag so the exposed flesh could scab over, and then bury it. Alicia also threw me a few books to read. One of them was Let It Rot! By Stu Campbell, a book all about composting. I devoured it and learned that we’re not really doing it right, but that we’re not really doing it wrong. Two main features Mr. Campbell said were very important; the moisture level, that of a wrung out sponge, and it should smell like grass.
We hadn’t paid much attention to our compost pile since we started it, but reading this book really made me want to go play in it. I realized that our piles weren’t tall enough, they should be about 4’x 4’x 4’, so that the pile will be big enough to hold heat, but no too big so oxygen can’t reach the center. We had three piles of about 3 and ½ feet to 2 feet tall. We also had gotten some new pallets lately and wanted to extend the compost system. So we built two more compost containers (pallets tied together) and mixed up all three compost piles to build two taller, better mixed piles. For the most part our pile had the consistency of a wrung out sponge, expect some areas were really wet, and some were dry. And it smelled like sweet grass, except one corner that smelled of horse dung. I mean, we use horse dung in the pile, but still. When we first started the compost pile, I had trimmed back all the grapes and blackberries with Carol, and had thrown all the clippings on the compost pile, without running them through a chipper, which we don’t have access to. (It’s on my wish list, along with a compost thermometer). So there were a lot of big twigs in the pile, we decided were not a good idea, so we pulled as many of them out as we could.
As strange as it sounds, Ed and I had such a good time with each other, climbing through the shit, pitch-forking it back and forth, as we rearranged the piles. To see how much they are already shrunk since we started them two months ago, and to see the little bit of steam that would rise as we shoveled into it. We were getting so excited! That we are able to help give something back to the earth, in thanks for all it gives us. That we are creating this natural substance that will enrich our soil. There is a seamless beauty to this cycle, and I am a part of it. A sense of purpose and reason for being here overtook Ed and I in our toils, and once again, as when we saw the Milky Way by the fire that night, for a moment I think we understood.

Pictures of the Compost

2009-03-10T16:03:00.001-07:00

How it looked when we started.

Moving stuff around.

That's me in there. Knee deep in crap.

The re-imagined first three compost piles.

Surveying with satisfaction our hard work, and don't get me wrong, it was a labor of love, but it was hard work!!!

Ed and I have not been liking the pillows on the floor in the living room. It was really hard on our backs. I got to thinking that some of our chairs must fit in here. I really miss our furniture, and it looks so sad piled up in the barn. I went on a mad frenzy throwing all the pillows out and dragging our brown chairs in. Only until after he saw what a brilliant idea I had did he offer to help, and claim the inspiration as his. Regardless of who thought of it, it is leaps and bounds above sitting on the floor.

Have a nice day,

-leah

Pictorial Views

2009-03-09T09:29:00.000-07:00

The open road is always nice, and Ed and I were going for a drive, up to Eugene to see our friends, Robbin and Matt. They’re great people, come up from LA two years before us. Matt is a chiropractor, and my back hurts. So it’s prefect. We drive up, get our backs adjusted and go out for dinner. Last time when we went up, we had looked up Vietnamese restaurants, because it’s been far too long since I had Pho, but the restaurant was nowhere to be found. We learned from a passerby that the restaurant had closed, so we settled for a nearby diner. Well, when we came up this time, Matt and Robbin had done some more research and found an open Pho restaurant. Well, not only was it a restaurant, but a little Vietnamese market as well. I was so glad to find Vietnamese coffee and a drip cup there, which is something I’ve been looking for for many years. The Pho wasn’t the best, (I want to learn how to make my own) but the company was splendid. We picked up the conversation when we got back to their house, and Robbin started to break some things down to me real quick.
So I’m learning, as I look into creating my garden, that some seeds need to be re-purchased every year. There is a company, Monsanto, which creates seed that has been genetically modified so that the seeds it produces cannot grow a viable crop. Trying to control our food, all under the auspices of “public food safety.” Well, this interrupts nature, which in turn can cause dependency on the provider, those who have the next year’s seeds. I should be able harvest seeds from my crops that I can plant for my next year’s crop. Genetically modified crops? Streamlining, making all the plants genetically the same? Not a good idea. Do we think we have mastered nature? Diversity is strength. Taking away options is a loss of freedom. You can’t patent life! We don’t own life, we just borrow from it.
Then Robbin started to tell me about a bill jumping around various committees on the Hill, that every ‘small farm’ would have to register all of their livestock. Every chicken, horse and pig. In a country that prides itself on small business, it tries to strangle the small farm. I’m not sure what all this means, but my intuition says, wait a minute.
It was all very nerve-racking, and it also makes me feel really small. What is one person going to do in the face of multi-million dollar, multi-national corporations, and a long list of Washington law makers? Go Local. I once heard that the only ‘real’ power the little guy has, is that of his ballot and consumer power. Go Local. I have an ex-vegan friend say that she would rather eat a local chicken than a corporate made soy-bean. And isn’t that part of the American dream? The self-supported community. To know the farmer who milked the cow, and the mom and pop who run the store. I think we need to learn how to trade again. One can provide fruit, and another can provide meat, and we can share our skills/wares, and help our neighbors.
I’m still learning, and you may say I’m a dreamer. But through the back of my head runs “Sixteen Tons”, Saint Peter don’t you call my cause I can’t go; I owe my soul to the company store.
The next morning, we had coffee, and went and hung out with the Alpacas. Robbin raises them. They are so cute, and their fiber is so soft. And she loves her pacas. Their barn sits on a little hill from which you can see the rolling greens and the trees. It’s amazing what beauty there is on earth.

Daylight Savings

2009-03-08T15:16:00.001-07:00

I never have understood the point of daylight savings. First, I was raised in Arizona, and Arizona doesn’t do daylight savings. But more, I don’t believe in the measurement of time. I abide by it, to the extent that I interact with a society that does believe in the measurement of time, and I know what it means to be punctual.
As I have said in this blog before, there are three natural measurements of time: the day, the month, and the year. All other measurements: weeks, hours and minutes are man made arbitrary constructs. There is going to be the exact same amount of daylight on the same day of every year, depending on one’s latitude, regardless of what ‘hour’ it is. So what does it matter that yesterday it was six when the sun set and today it’s seven?
Beyond this, I’ve been thinking, while the amount of daylight we have wanes and waxes at the same yearly rate, we do have less daylight in the winter than we do in the summer. Yes,yes. That’s a no-brainer. The sun is the giver of all life to this planet. I think we, as a species, should live more in tune with our natural environment. Why can’t we just work shorter days in the winter, longer days in the summer? A type of pseudo-hibernation, while the daylight hours are short and the earth is in its dormant phase. Like other plant and animal species that behave seasonally. In the summer, with longer daylight hours, thus more natural growth, is when we should be working longer hours. Use this time to harness energy and save enough for the long cold winter hibernation.
Okay, that’s all. That and it’s snowing.

Down Lookinglass Road

2009-03-07T18:11:00.000-08:00

Every time I turn down Lookinglass Road I find myself on the other side of the mirror, and here I am, in my personal wonderland. And what do I find here? A long dirt road, a muddy field, tweddle-dee and tweddle-dum… and the monsters in my head. So I open up a stack of cards and lay out solitaire for myself. Up comes Barbie the Goat. She jumps on the rock next to where I sit. “Black ten on the red jack”
“Thanks,” I say as I move the ten over, pondering the red seven under it.
“You’ll never win,” says Barbie, “Cause I stole the 9 of hearts.”
I looked at her closely and noticed that her nose had turned into the 9 of hearts. She stands there staring into my face, those big round eyes with narrow slits. What is she thinking behind those eyes? I walk away, but she stays at my side. Not speaking, just staying right there, at my left hip, walking with me. I stop and she trys to start eating the buttons off my shirt, all while gazing up at me. I walk a little further down, towards the stream, Barbie with me every step of the way. But once I start jumping from rock to rock across the stream, Barbie stops. “I wouldn’t cross the river if I were you!” I look back at her and her sad face, and wonder what haunts her. But goats are scared of everything, I figure, and I’m a big strong person. I am not afraid.
I continue to tell myself this as the wind howls and the tress grow thicker. But after the rain comes the rainbow and the pot of gold, if you can convince the leprechauns to let you take it.
“So you want me pot of gold?”
“It’d be nice”, I say.
And wouldn’t it?

Ed, around the farm: a tribute

2009-03-05T12:19:00.000-08:00

We really waste quite a bit of water, refilling the animals buckets everyday. Once we get the garden going I'll use the old drinking water to water the plants. At least that's what I'm thinking.

I help with all this work, although he does the heavy lifting. The bag is filled with all the used bedding and manure, at first we were putting all in our compost pile, but the piles began to overflow!

hay there sexy!

At the end of the day, doing what he loves.

Animal instincts

2009-03-02T21:28:00.001-08:00

So the little pygmy goats are starting to warm up to me; the sheep too, even though they are still super skittish. The little goats, like I said are starting to get used to us. I think that’s because we bring them their food everyday, animals notice things like that. So for the first time the other day the little goats let me touch them, before that they would always run away from me. As Ed was filling up their water buckets, I bent down and they came up to me, as I started to pet them they fought over who got to be closer to me, the little charmers. Then the black one, started to nibble on my gloves and my shirt, they didn’t want to be brushed, they wanted food, and since I’m the one who brings it to them, they must figure I always have it.

Also, Welden, the male miniature horse, lately has been attacking Kenny, the male Nubian goat. Twice in the last week Welden has pinned Kenny up against the barn while biting his neck. Once Welden chased Kenny the whole way across the pasture, trying to take him down, and finally succeeded. Poor Kenny cries and cries, and the cries of a Nubian goat are not a pleasant sound. And Welden has some massive teeth and could probably do some damage. I ran into the pasture yelling at him to let Kenny go, which he finally did as I got close. I was half afraid that Welden would turn on me, but I figured I could take down a miniature horse. When I told Carol and Grant, they didn’t seem to care. Grant just laughed that Welden does that sometimes, and that Kenny usually gets away. He said it’s because Cha Cha (the filly) is in heat, and Welden gets protective of her, and jealous. But why a horse is jealous of a goat is beyond me.

Stop the Presses

2009-03-01T20:43:00.000-08:00

So back in December, when Ed and I were in the middle of figuring out what to do since he was no longer employed, I started keeping this blog, half as a journal, half as a way to share my story. I am a storyteller, that’s what I do. I sometimes phrase it as an aspiring writer, but I am writing, so what am I aspiring to? To hopefully earn some type of living from the words I put on a page.
Once we moved up to Oregon, I was surfing around on CNN one day, and decided to publish an I-report. Why did I do this? Boredom? Shits and giggles? Nothing else to loose? All of the above. Reaching out I guess, maybe someone out there would find some solace in my story. We understand that we are by no means alone in our hardship, and we also fully appreciate how lucky we are to have family willing to take us in and help us out. It is more than some have.
Well, within about 12 hours of me posting my I-report I received a call from two CNN producers, saying “hey, we like your story and would like do a further report on you.”
My first thought was, what a validation of my writing that it hooked a CNN producer enough to want to follow up with us. My second thought was why not? We don’t have much to do, and if only for our own entertainment… So we drove up to Portland, did a sit down interview and spent the rest of the day with a good friend.
Maybe we should have never taken this step, maybe we did not fully consider what the results might entail. But it was done, and we watched with anticipation when it would air. Then it was over, and we were back to cleaning up after the little ones. But another call came, “we’re interested in your story and would like to conduct an interview.” Again, why not? The first one was gravy, and we were having fun. Am I some narcissist and do I feel I deserve national media attention? No. I like being one of the anonymous masses. And I felt, and still do feel, that with the fickle nature of the media, who would remember this in a month? But maybe Ed and I could somehow meet some good people and maybe land a job as a result of all this madness.
No job offers yet, but we are still hoping.
In light of some of the comments I have received, both on my blog, and on the I-report page, I feel I should clarify myself in some respects. But as a disclaimer, I would like to state that the overwhelming majority of the comments have been ones of support and encouragement, and I would like to thank all those who are sending good energy our way.
First, Ed has been self employed for the past seven years, in multiple partnerships. As anyone who is self-employed knows, it takes the first few years just to get into the black (if you EVER get into the black), and everything you make goes back into the company. He employed people, and paid heavy taxes and contributed to growth in the economy. The partners in his second start-up, royally and illegally screwed him, taking the portfolio (life insurance) that he helped build, and moved it into an entity that did not bare his name, thus their reason for denying him his share of the profits. We are attempting to retain counsel against them, for his rightful share.
I’m 28, having graduated from the University of Arizona when I was 25, so I am essentially at the beginning of my potential career earnings. And I put myself through school, working full time, up until my last year when I took a part time job. So anyone who says: “I don’t understand how you couldn’t have had much savings, you must have made some stupid decisions, and that’s what you get for living beyond your means”, why don't you go jump off a bridge and do us all a favor.
Second, maybe I should clarify my tone. I realize that most of the people reading this do not know me personally, and although I always want to write like I talk, there is no possibility for inflection on the page, no facial expressions or hand gestures. So let me say, I wrote my original post (the one that ended up on the I-report) as part sarcasm, part social commentary, and part hopeful for the future and excited for what we could accomplish in our new environment. We were not country clubbers; we worked and associated with them. We were not spending our full paychecks on clothes and dinners. We did manage to treat ourselves to the Opera from time to time. And while we went into a little debt for our wedding and honeymoon, it was nothing we would not have been able to work ourselves out of in a year’s time; if Ed had not been so unceremoniously ousted from his company. Then our further plans, which entailed saving money and joining the peace corps, and having enough so that we could in turn aid other artists, we hoped (and still hope) that we could help build a better world for all. It might not have been read this way, but I can’t control how people interpret my words, all I can do is put them out there.
If some of my words have been interpreted as complaining or condescending, again, I can only say they were not meant that way. We have endless appreciation for the natural beauty and the kind souls around us. And while that is a fact, the stress of the move, the culture shock, and the pressure of financial worries are also a reality. And I challenge anyone who lives in rural America to move to Los Angeles, and see how you can handle it. People come there everyday from all over America and crash and burn and then end up going back home. Every dreamer in the world seems to want to make it happen in Hollywood.
Lastly, I would like to say to those people who have commented that Oregon doesn’t need us, and we should move back to California, that last time I checked, Oregon is a state in this Union and we are American citizens. And if we want to move anywhere in this glorious nation, as citizens and as taxpayers, that is our right.
Thank you and have a nice day.

Little Miss Muffet

2009-02-27T17:00:00.001-08:00

Well, I’m starting to wonder if my mosquito bites are really spider bites. And how do I tell the difference? Although there still are some killer mosquitoes here, Ed has killed plenty of them. But I wonder about the spiders, because for the past few days Ed and I have been sitting on our pillows in the “living room”, and have sworn that we have felt little things falling on our heads. Well today Ed finally saw them, lots and lots of tiny spiders on fine little webs on the ceiling. I wonder about my bites because they are just not acting like mosquito bites, they are not going away, still itch like crazy, and the red welt circumference is larger than a silver dollar. I’ve never had a mosquito bite last this long. By the way, I would like to thank everyone for their wonderful advice on mosquitoes.
So we are fogging the Airstream, took everything out, and dropped the bomb. I’ve never done anything of the sort, although I can remember my grandparents spraying our house for bugs when I was little. I’m scared to go back into the trailer, but at least all the spiders will be dead. Die, spiders, die.

On a happier note, we officially named the Airstream yesterday, and again thanks for all the wonderful suggestions. The winner was: The Ellie Mae. There you have it folks. Have a good day.

Rainy day blues

2009-02-25T11:59:00.000-08:00

There are some killer mosquitoes around here, and they seem to like the way I taste. I have bites up and down my arms and legs. I’m having a hard time refraining from scratching them. In fact, I haven’t been able to and they have turned into huge red itching welts. I hope they don’t scar my beautiful skin! But I suppose it’d be my own fault if they do, since I’m the one scratching them. Sometimes I think I scratch them in my sleep, when I have no conscious control over my hands and nails. But I’ve been scratching enough during the day when I am conscious.
Why do mosquitoes exist, anyway? I’m sure I’m not the first to ask this question. They don’t seam to serve any purpose that I can find. Most insects and worms are vital players when it comes to pollination and decomposition; they are needed in the cycle of life. Mosquitoes do nothing of the kind. I also found out during my research that it’s only female mosquitoes that bite us; they need our iron and protein for egg production. So the little bitches that bit me did it so they can lay eggs that will give life to more mosquitoes, who will also try to bite me.
Ed, in his Buddhist leanings is all for living and letting live when it comes to other creatures who inhabit this planet, except for mosquitoes, flies and sometimes spiders. If they are just going to bite us and make us itch like crazy, then we are going to kill as many as we can. Have you ever killed a mosquito that was in the middle of sucking your blood, and you swat it, and raise your hand to find a small smudge of blood on your arm? Was that your blood or the mosquito’s? At what point in their taking it from you does it cease to be yours and start to be theirs? When they fly off I suppose.

Ed and I are both horribly depressed lately. Two steps forward and three steps back. A few days filled with sunshine and good news followed by weeks and weeks of frustration. It’s frustrating. There is not a lot of economy or industry up here in the best of times, and these are not them. Most of the job postings are for health care, and I am not a RN. We briefly talked about me becoming one, which would require schooling, but I have to ask myself, do I really want to be poking people with needles, and cleaning scars and being coughed on? Ummm, I don’t think so. I mean, it is a valuable skill and god bless nurses; it’s just not for me.
What is for me? What do I want to do with my life? All I need to do is answer that question then go out and do it. How easy it all sounds. And how stupid I feel for not being able to answer it. My religious upbringing taught me that girls should dream of being a good housewife and mom. Those are noble endeavors, but I’m neither. Well, I am a step-mom, but Hannah is 16 and still in LA. And if I really think about it, I am a trailer-wife, whatever that is worth. Some people will argue that my religion (I was raised Mormon but no longer subscribe to the belief system) does not pigeonhole girls into that role, but those are the messages I received being raised in the church. I was never asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. Whenever I came up with something I wanted to be, a ballerina or an actress, I was told that it wasn’t likely to happen, nobody liked me and I should read my scriptures. Like everyone, I see my past though my colored glasses and other’s might disagree, but they are my memories. Revisionist history.
So I sit here, on my hands, racking my brain. Maybe I know the answers, and maybe I’m scared to admit what I want, for fear that I’m not good enough. And demons are in my head, and under my bed and in my sock drawer. So I’m paralyzed, sitting in my boat floating down the river. Don’t go wherever the river flows. But why not let the river answer the questions for me? Beats having to do it myself. That would leave my life uncomplicated and unfulfilled. But I’ve never been one to take the answers given to me, thus the mental battle. Have I said that already?

So where do we go from here? Ed and I have now extended our job search to a national level. And if something gets offered, we’d leave the farm. Our financial stability is more immediately necessary and important than raising pigs. Without cash we would not be able to keep up the farm anyway. I’ve often pondered this: it’s impossible for nothing to happen, by the very nature of nature, something is going to happen. The sun will rise again; the plants and animals will grow. I will age, and get wrinkles, and my hair will turn grey, and Ed and I will move out of this trailer, build a house where we will sit by the fire laughing about the days we were cramped in the Airstream.

2009-02-23T18:18:00.000-08:00

Ed and I in front of the Airstream. Still looking for names for the trailer, people! It's been raining for the past couple days so we've been stuck inside, except for the few minutes that we were able to step outside and take this photo. The ground is saturated and there are puddles all over the place. I've been teaching Ed to play Gin Rummy and he and I have been battling it out. I was taught to play Gin by my Uncle Jim on a rainy day, just like this one.

Lots of plans in the works, e.g. we need to purchase our apple trees soon. I'm thinking Pink Lady, Fuji and Granny Smith. We need more than one apple variety for cross-pollination. At least for some types of apples. They take a few seasons to produce, 4-5 years. I'm still learning about all of this.

I have been corresponding with an old friend who is living off 200 acres in Idaho, 1800's style. Lots of good advice, but it is making us question how much of a commitment to the farm and the self-sustaining lifestyle we want to make. Once you get off the grid can you ever get back on it?

Getting Comfortable

2009-02-21T20:16:00.001-08:00

Here is the tearing out the shower process. It's cleaned up now, but there is still some work to do on the kitchen and bathroom. I'll post pictures of the finished project soon.

The Grape vines that we dug up and replanted on the other side of the lawn. I had to prune them way down to get the vines untwined from the wire, so they look like sad little sticks in the ground now.

Here are all the little critters. I like them better everyday, even though they're not of much use, being the spoiled pets that they are. The sheep's wool might be good. Carol said it's almost time to shear them, and the sheep staring at the camera is black, although it's so dirty you can't tell, and Carol said black wool is more valuable. I'll see what I can do with it.

Our fire pit, Ed is so happy to have one. We built it in our front yard.

Playing with fire. You can see the area behind me is where the grapes used to be.

I'm think I'm starting to like it here. We have a little home, and a rad front yard, such as it is.

Thanks for stopping by my blog, and have a nice day. LEAH

A beautiful winter’s night…

2009-02-21T08:36:00.000-08:00

Ed and I worked our asses off the last couple days. But we accomplished many great things. First, we dug ourselves a fire pit in our little front yard. Went and bought some firewood, and built ourselves a little fire. It was so amazing sitting around our fire, poking it with a stick, and looking up at our first cloudless night. The starts just popped out of the sky, and we looked up in amazement, looking at the stars and poking our fire.
I often wonder about early man, and I’m always attempting to locate what exactly it is that sets us apart from other animals who inhabit this planet. Our ability to control fire is a major one in my books. The magical intense heat and light, and the flickering of the flames that is hypnotic. Think, 800,000 years ago, Hominin’s were sitting around a camp fire, poking it with a stick and looking up at the stars.
Second big task, we transplanted the six grape vines. They were on the other side of the cement slab that we are going to extend to build our studio/office/shower/sauna structure. They had to go. I was told, by the lady in the nursery, that grapes aren’t the best transplanters, but we should do it now, while they are dormant, and hope for the best. So that’s what we did, and it was a tiring and dirty (as in DIRT) job. But we got it done and we are so proud of ourselves. I hope all the plants survive, but I plan on planting more grapes anyway. I’m not sure what varieties they have now, and I’ll need particular kinds to make wine with.
Our handyman was over today, and he took out the shower. We weren’t ever planning to shower in there, it was way too small of a space to shower comfortably, and we were just using the area for storage. This entailed moving a wall back (so our bathroom is super small now, but who cares?) and extending the kitchen counter by 9 square feet, which is a major help when cooking dinner, and does wonders for our headspace. It really opens the Airstream up, and we feel like we have so much more room. It’s the happiest I’ve been with the Airstream since we bought it.
Lastly, I got a new gardening book! The Maritime Northwest Garden Guide, It was recommended by the producer of the Inside Edition piece who came out to our farm. It has a month by month break down of what to do and plant that month in this area. I read over it a little and started feeling totally behind. But I remind myself it is our first year, and I have to be patient with myself. Between that book and my Sunset Western Garden Book, I think I’ll do just fine.

The Girl in The Box

2009-02-17T18:26:00.000-08:00

For as long as I can remember, I have had a little girl in a wooden box in the back of my head. The box was never quite big enough for her, she always had to be stoop over. And, for most of my life, she would pound her fist on the walls and scream at the top of her lungs 24 hours a day.
I have run very far to get away from myself, but everywhere I go, there I am, and here I am, at the end of the day, and the end of the road, and the end of my rope.
So I go into my mind, and open the lid of the box and ask the little girl, “if I bring you some milk and cookies will you stop crying?”
“maybe” says she.
“what do you want?” says I.
“the same thing you do.”
“I don’t know what I want”
When you have everything to gain, and everything to lose, when you don’t even know what that might entail in either direction. Enie, Meanei, Minie, Moe, doesn’t work like it used to. Why not, becomes just why.
“you’re not answering the question” says my little girl. “climb in here and scream with me”
I climb into the box, but instead of pounding fists, I only have streaming tears.
I’ve always said that I was fearless, or that my only fears were morbid obesity and spontaneous combustion. Roosevelt said we should only fear fear.
To not be afraid of the dark around me, I have to first not be afraid of the darkness in my mind. And to the depths it can go. I look around my box, laying there, in my dark thoughts. And I say to my little girl “I’ll try to get us out of this.”

Ed and I picked up this piece, Cubicle, from a good friend of ours, Hunter King, (hunterking.com), before our financial meltdown, and what a great piece for our collection! Now it makes an even more poignant statement, in relation to our current living situation and current state of mind. I wanted to share the thought, and perhaps ask what traps you?

Emotional upheaval abound a.k.a just another 19th nervous breakdown

2009-02-16T11:37:00.000-08:00

I was cooking breakfast, a daily balancing act; I had just cracked my last egg into the frying pan, when I heard a smash behind me. I turned around and saw my whole 18-egg carton (minus the three I had just started cooking) upside down with whites and yokes oozing out from under it. I looked at it, took a deep breath, and started laughing. I just knew they were all broken. (That was Ed’s worst case scenario as well).
It’s hard to talk about all my anxieties when I’m feeling momentarily happy. As I am now, thanks to some sunshine and some scotch. But last night and the hours and days before then… here’s come the sun, little darling. And I have to believe that Ed and I will get through our current situation and it’ll be alright.
To start, and thank you for indulging me because it’ll be good to type about it, I’m lonely. I’m used to a city full of people, always movement around me, interaction with colleagues and clients. Now it’s just me, and Ed and Grant and Carol. The animals don’t count, that’s not human interaction. I’ve turned increasingly to the internet, but nothing goes on there either, so hit the refresh button and wait while the page reloads. I’m finding it difficult to focus my energies in any particular direction. I’ve had friends suggest knitting, or needlepoint, any type of handcraft. I walked around Michael's for an hour, looking at all the possibilities there. But nothing caught my eye. I left feeling more purposeless than before.
That’s what it is, I have no purpose here, at least I have not found it. And it’s been such a struggle just to survive, mentally, here in this cocoon. I told Ed once that I would live in a cave with him, but maybe I couldn’t live in a cave with myself. Not having a home when we first got here, and then living in the trailer now which is only marginally workable because of the limited space. And then having the handyman over everyday, with banging, clacking and tearing everything apart and then putting it back together again. It needed to be done and it needs to be done. But your home, such as it were, should be your sanctuary, and to have it invaded on a constant basis, just as you are trying to settle in and start to feel at home there. It’s hard not to have that place that feels like home. Cause there is no place like it. That’s what I don’t have here yet.
A little bird, or a wise owl, sat me down the other day and gave me some words of wisdom. I think we are related, if only in spirit. More on that later, but she said to me: what is it that men need in their relationships? They need to feel like they are taking care of their family. It’s biological, as much as I like to think that I, as the female am as equal in every sense of the word, we are not, we are two complimentary beings, we are the yin and the yang, and both are needed.
I thought about this, and two thoughts came to my head. One, through the biological and cultural evolution of the human species, it was the males, who for obvious physical reasons, were the primary provider. They went hunting and brought home food, they went to war, protecting their home, they took care of their group. (Due to the nature of hunting, men had to develop a quiet communication style with each other, which carries on to this day. While women, who generally stayed close to home tending the crop and the children, were able to sit and talk and work as long as the day. That’s why women are more talkative than men (this explanation is my anthropological generalization, to which there are, of course, deviations and contradictions). More on that later.
So Ed, who, god love him, just wants to take care of me, and provide for me, and as much as this might sometimes aggravate my independent side, I can’t blame him for his biological coding.
Though also, I can’t deny that I am a female with just as much biological and hormonal coding as men have. You know, I bleed once a month, as does every other adult female on this planet. And when I was younger I used to say, “PMS? HA!” Because I never experienced that many monthly symptoms. But this past year or two I’ve began to notice that some months I’m a little crampy, and very tired, and slightly more emotional than I used to be. Not that I become a raging bitch, and I don’t think it’s acceptable for any women to use bleeding as an excuse to become one. The point is, I can’t deny my “womeness” anymore than Ed can deny his “maness.”
So Ed is already feeling vulnerable and insecure due to his lost ability to provide for me, and every minute of my unhappiness is driving that nail deeper into his psyche. I’m not very happy here, yet. I think I could be, but I haven’t found it. I think that by nature I’m a fairly happy person. And I know Lincoln said “most folk are as happy as they make their minds up to be” or something like that, but how much power does the mind have over outside circumstances? Not that I’m comparing my situation with them, but how much could people in concentration camps, or refugee camps, or war-torn Sarajevo, say to themselves, “I’m going to be a happy person” regardless of the hardship around them? So I have to try to be happy, despite my suffering and anguish, even if that suffering is only in my mind, because that’s the worst place for it to be.
Other demons reside here now, I mentioned the noise of Los Angeles, here there is only silence. We are experiencing withdrawals. And the silence is loud, like the frogs and the crickets and my thoughts. My thoughts are really loud, and not always nice. Also it’s a culture shock, I’m used to things needing to be done yesterday, and fast-paced Beverly Hills. Here people move slow. Ed and I were walking around the grocery store the other day, and I looked around and said “We are walking four times as fast as anyone else in here.” Maybe I should slow down. Maybe I’m afraid if I slow down, I’ll just stop. Stop.

BH to HB: A Pictorial

2009-02-13T12:55:00.000-08:00

Our old West Hollywood dining room. We don't have one anymore.

Our bookcase, oddly enough, this is what I miss the most. Now all of our beautiful books are in boxes.

Our old hallway.

Our new Hallway in the Airstream (still haven't thought of a name for her).
Our old bedroom.
Our new bedroom, and there is only room for the bed. (My mom made the quilt for our us as a wedding gift).
Our old kitchen.
Our new kitchen. And yes, I know we are not supposed to use a Coleman stove inside, but we have good ventilation and Ed and I don't care if we die from carbon monoxide, it sounds like a painless exit. Also the stove that came in the Airstream doesn't work, we can't even figure out where to light the pilot, and we needed something.
The fridge that was in the Airstream, it didn't work and we pulled it out. We think it was the original, making it 34 years old.
The space left behind when we pulled out the fridge.
Our new-improved system of mini-fridge, mircowave and toaster.

We'll post more when we finish the bathroom area. It's so hideous right now we can't even look at it really. Nuff said.

28 days in Oregon

2009-02-13T07:10:00.000-08:00

We have been in Oregon for 28 days now, it feels like 28 weeks at least since we were pulling up to the farm with our u-haul. The funny thing with not working Monday thru Friday 9-5 is that I'm never quite sure what day or what time it is. What is time anyway? There are three natural measurements of time, a day - the earth's complete rotation on its axis, the month - the moon's journey around the earth, and the year - the earth's journey around the sun. Other than that, all measurements of time, hours and minutes, are arbitrary human constructs. For me the only time that matters now, is the time to take care of the animals. And I feel hungry, so I think I'll cook now, it must be dinner time.
28 Days. And how much we've done in that time. We've taken over care of the little critters, cleaned up the yard, the trees on the property had not been trimmed in 10 years. So Ed and I tackled that, it's hard work, two or three trees and we're shot. Then raking up the pine needles, which haven't been raked up in 10 years. We're going to rake them into a pile and burn them. You don't want to compost pine needles, they take too long to break down. We've started our compost piles, which I'm happy about, although in the cold weather we think it'll take awhile to break down. Hopefully that process will speed up with the warming spring weather. But we don't think it'll be broken down in time to start our garden this spring.
We went to a local nursery to get tips and advice on gardening, they told us to sit on our hands for 6-8 weeks. We can't start till late April/early May. The ground's still too muddy right now to till. I suppose this is all meant to teach me patience, which I thought I had, but maybe I lost.
And then there has been the constant work on the Airstream, and running into town to pick up nuts and bolts, and getting lost and then arguing about what size nut we need. Then coming back and seeing our little home, which we are trying to keep nice, torn up and with tools and mud strewn all over the place. It's stressful, and hard labor, and by the early afternoon we are exhausted and hurting and brain dead. So we eat dinner and veg out in front of the TV, we don't have cable hooked up yet, so we are limited to movies on our Netflix list. That's not so bad.
Building our home and our life here, for 28 days, and I can't even imagine what the next month will bring. I think my imagnation took a sabbatical, and I'll go on a snipe hunt to find it. Maybe tomorrow.

That's a dead goose

2009-02-12T16:20:00.000-08:00

A goose died. Not one of the mean African geese, the little orange-beaked nice one. I was told that if you're going to have livestock, that sometimes you'll have deadstock.
Death is a bizarre experience, so is life I guess, two sides of one coin. One day there is an animated goose squawking around, irritating everyone who can hear it, the next there is a stiff lifeless body covered in feathers. It died of natural causes, we're guessing. It's head wasn't missing and it's feathers weren't scattered around the pen. Old age and cold weather. I hope it was at peace, that is, if geese experience peace or panic. Who's to say they do, and who's to say they don't? I wonder what the other geese thought about losing a friend. Just one less squawk to accompany their own.
Ed and I noticed the goose while doing our morning chores and being filmed by Inside Edition (that story will follow, right now I'm talking about the dead goose). We thought, aww shit Carol and Grant are not going to like this. And they didn't. Grant walked into the pen and picked the dead goose up, with his bare hands, which I thought was a little gross, and shivered at the thought of having to pick up a dead goose. Ed dug a hole, right next to where all the other dead pets are buried. The goose was put into a plastic bag and thrown in. Don't you ever laugh when a hearse goes by.
I'm thinking it'd be better not to put it in the plastic bag, so that the earth could quickly decompose it's body, take that engery and molcules back from whence they came. The cold brown dirt. Or maybe just leave it out in the field to be eaten by scavengers and worms. But no, Carol wanted to pluck some of it's feathers, they are considered special by her tribe (Carol is half Pomo Indian), but said she couldn't pluck the feathers of such a good friend. Fair enough.
So goodbye to George the goose.

living in an Airstream.

2009-02-10T15:25:00.001-08:00

So we are living in the Airstream, and I wanted to show you what our new living room looks like. It's very small, and we are learning that every square inch matters. But it's comfortable enough. The rest of the Airstream is still being worked on.

in case you missed it

2009-02-09T10:18:00.000-08:00

Here is the segment that CNN played, we come on about thirty seconds into the spot, after the commercial. Click on the link, or copy and paste into your browser. Enjoy!

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2009/02/06/snow.from.six.figures.to.zero.cnn?iref=videosearch

I've been hearing it on the Radio

2009-02-08T11:55:00.000-08:00

It's funny, Shirley the producer at CNN said this picture might be too humorous for the story, I said if Ed and I did not keep our sense of humor we would have jumped off a bridge. So CNN ended up using this picture in the clip.

So we drove up to Portland on Thursday to be interviewed by CNN (the clip aired Friday on Wolf Blitzer's, "The Situation Room"). CNN will post the clip online Monday, and I will link it to my blog for all of you who are not avid CNN watchers to view. (It was a fun experience, we were interviewed via telephone by Shirley, the producer, who was in New York. We had little earpieces and microphones hooked up to us, they interviewed us for about 45 minutes, and whittled it down to about 45 seconds for the show). We spent the rest of the day with my good friend Lauren. It was good to be in a city again. Friday we woke up and drove back home. When we arrived Grant told us CNN had aired the clip, and he had recorded it. So we all sat down and watched it a few times. Ed's beard looks red on TV, and I think we are both camera friendly. So Friday night, being thoroughly exhausted, we received a call from CNN Radio. They wanted an interview as well for the radio broadcast. We spoke to the radio producer for about twenty minutes, but I haven't been listening to CNN radio to hear if they have played the interview. Whirlwind. The producer told me (via email) that Ed and I MADE the segment, and that she would love to do a follow-up. Even if it goes nowhere, I'm glad it happened.

as seen on CNN

2009-02-04T15:44:00.001-08:00

So check it, I posted a little part of my blog on CNN i-Reports, and within 24 hours two different CNN producers had called me about broadcasting our story over the airwaves.

http://www.ireport.com/docs/DOC-207125?ref=email

Now, they are asking Ed and I to drive up to Portland tomorrow for an interview.
There is a chance our story will be on national news.
Curiouser and curiouser.

On the sunny side

2009-02-03T20:51:00.000-08:00

Well it's been sunny for the past few days here. which is a nice change. I keep on thinking Vitamin D, Vitamin D, and I've had a song stuck in my head. "you will feel no pain as we drive you all insane." And the Airstream is moving right along, we are living in here now, we only lack a refrigerator and a stove and a shower, so I'm still having to cook and shower in the house. It's okay.
Our routine with the animals is good, but we still want to get rid of them and get some animals that would be more productive. We are thinking cows amd chickens, maybe bees.
But now that our living situation is a little more under control, my next thought is turning to gardening. none of our compost will be ready by this season, but I think the ground is probably rich enough on it's own, since it's never been used to produce anything. I think I have to start my tomato's seedlings soon.
More pics to come...

As promised, pictures...

2009-01-29T18:06:00.000-08:00

There she stands, and there she'll stay. At least for a little while. In the background you can see our wooden pallets and compost pile. I really like our Airstream. and I'm liking it more and more everyday. Dan the handyman says we'll be able to move in by Friday.
Everything I pulled out, all the bad fixtures, the curtains smelled, and the sofa was scary.

The front of the house.

The back of the trailer, or our bedroom.
This is our torn up bathroom.
All the little critters, in the interior of the barn, that Ed and I clean everyday. We prepare their food and vitamins, shovel up all the urine-soaked and manure-covered hay and lay down new bedding. Between the two of us, we have a good little system down and we get it all clean in 45 minutes.
The Nubian goats, Kenny and Barbie. They alway look at me funny.
Welden.
Cha Cha, not a great picture, she kept on moving. Cha Cha is very sweet and she likes me, she'll follow me around, and she lets me brush her.

the Airstream: an update

2009-01-27T18:05:00.000-08:00

So last weekend Ed and I drove to Salem to pick up our Airstream. We drove up to Eugene, and stayed with some friends on Friday, and on Saturday morning on the way up to Salem we stopped by Corvallis. An old friend of mine's dad has a deli there and every few years I pop in to say "Hey, where is Ali?" As it happened she was living six blocks away and sprinted over to the deli for a quick hug, then we were off.
This was the first time I had seen the Airstream, the guy at the shop went over what they had fixed and what still needed to happen. It was overwhelming, to say the least. But then again I have been overwhelmingly overwhelmed for the past few months, that sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.
And then we drove back to the farm. Where there had been more gravel spread out over the pad where our little home now stands (We had gravel delivered). And we've had Dan the handyman come by to scope out the project. I was able to release A LOT of aggression taking a hammer to the interior. Well, mainly a screwdriver, and I pulled out all of the hideous vintage 1974 furnishings and decor. Tomorrow I'll take a picture of all of the junk I pulled out and all the the work we've done, and I'll post it for your viewing pleasure. And then we began tearing up the rotted floor. That was lots of fun.
So tonight our airstream stands, half clean, half torn up, with working lights, refrigator and furnace. That's a hella of a lot better than I was expecting. Dan the handyman said he'll have the thing in living condition by the end of the week, and I can't wait to sleep in there. It's actually really cute, or it will be when it's done.
Then also, we are going to build a "carport" over the Airstream, for protection (there is one leaking window that would be rather pricey to fix) and the carport will be used in our water-harvesting program.
Then there is a 16' x 16' slab that we are going to build a room over. This will be used as a office/studio (Ed plays guitar and harmonica).
Then add the fire pit and picnic table, and the little area will be sweet and cozy.

Oregon, Finally

2009-01-22T17:05:00.000-08:00

We now have reliable Internet access, so I can start blogging again, before we got here it was just dial up and it sucked.
Well, we are now officially living in Oregon
Through a series of really long days, Ed and I managed to load all of our possessions onto a U-haul truck and while towing the Prius, drive ourselves up to Oregon.
Our Airstream is still being worked on in Salem, so we are living in the house with Grant and Carol. And three small barking dogs, that jump on your legs every time they see you and who are not completely house trained (Ed bought a choke chain and is determined to train them). And a back room full of cats and stinky cat litter boxes. Then there is the bickering of Grant and Carol. And the bickering and the barking dogs.
Also it’s really fucking cold. Like really. Consider this, I’m originally from Arizona, and up until a week ago I was living in 80° Los Angeles weather, the warmest day so far was the day of our arrival, and that was 45°. Today’s high was 37°. I am cold. And I don’t have the best winter wardrobe, or shit clothes for working around the farm.
On the up side, we have been learning to take care of the animals. There are two sheep, two Nubian goats, to Pygmy goats, two miniature horses and three geese. Grant showed us how to clean their stalls, and prepare their food, now Ed and I are going out there and taking care of it before Grant wakes up.
Also, we built our compost heap, lined it with four wooden pallets, and threw on our first pile of horse shit, hay and the tin container I’ve been keeping in the kitchen full of produce scraps. Ed said when we threw it all on, it started steaming. A compost pile will heat up to 130 degrees in the decomposition process.
We are learning our way around the town, well our house is ten miles outside of town, so I’m also learning the way to town.
Plans are in the work, first though we just need to get our trailer and move into it. It is stressful not having our own space. I’m going to get a Jack Russell terrier soon, and I’m looking for name suggestions. My little Jack Russell will follow us around while we take care of the animals and work in the garden. Also he will keep Carol’s three dogs away from me. And my dog will be trained, Ed will see to that.
Tomorrow Carol is going to teach me to trim back the rose and blackberry bushes, they already have grape vines and a plum tree. This land has great potential, and we are going to try to help coax what we can out of it, see if we can make some money off of it. That’s the goal.

leaving LA

2009-01-11T19:58:00.000-08:00

Well, Friday was my last day at work, which was surreal to say the least. I said goodbye to the little girl I've been training, good luck, I've done all I can for you. but this world is no longer mine, it's not my life. my journey continues, I still have places to go, and right now that is to Oregon. We are almost all packed, and we pick up the U-haul truck on Wednesday. Amongst the existential angst that will always accompany a life changing move, I think I feel alright. In our good bye to LA I would like to put up a few pictures. First showing where we now inhabit, and as part of the saying goodbye process, on New Years Day, we took a hike in the Glendale foothills. I figured out how to get pictures on the side of the page so look over for our pictorial farewell to LA., and we are disconnecting our Internet today, so the next time I post it'll be from Oregon!

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T13:10:00.000-08:00

So having told my story and my plans to my family, my dad who always promotes gardening, gave me a great book for Christmas, Sunset Western Garden Book, which according to him, and the book itself, is the bible of gardening. It is broken down into sections, first it maps out the western United States, breaking the area down into climate zones. Roseburg is in zone six. Zone six is considered a maritime climate, with a long growing season, April to November, and 40 to 55 inches of annual rainfall in most places. The hills have good drainage, and are known for berries and Pinot Noir grapes. And I’m definitely going to try to make my own wine.
The next 500 pages of the book breakdown every type of plant you can think of, and then some, alphabetically, telling you what zones they grow in, how much light and water they need and general information about the plants. So I’m making a list of everything I want to grow, and I’m looking them up.
The last section of the book is filled with general gardening information, the tools you need and how to take care of the soil. One page is all about vegetable gardening. Very useful, so thanks, Dad.
I wonder how hard it will be to grow a vegetable garden, sometimes I think it should be pretty easy, I think I’m moving to fairly ideal conditions, and I mean, plants grow naturally, right? But still I do know that it will be work, but a labor of love. I can’t wait to get my hands in the dirt.
On the flip side... for his birthday a few weeks ago, Ed was given a book as well, this one is titled, An Omnivores Dilemma, by Michael Pollan. And from what we have read of it so far, it is following much of the grocery store food backwards, to see the origins of that Twinkie, Microwave Dinner, Rice-A-Ronie and Campbell’s soup, to discover that much of it is derived from corn. That’s where the energy starts. So even though through master-minded packaging we are tricked into thinking we have a diversified diet, we don’t. So, even though I plan on growing corn, I hope this process helps in the diversification of my diet.
Maybe I’ll have my own cows and feed them grass (most industrial cows are fed corn), and make my own cheese. And keep pigs and send them out to the butcher. Although Ed says pigs are dirty. And keep chickens and gather my own eggs. I wonder, and I can’t wait to start.
But for now I’m stuck in my Los Angeles apartment, with nothing to do, except read books on the matter.
So if you have any further suggestions for me, I’d love to hear them.

pictures

2008-12-17T12:29:00.000-08:00

Please scroll down to the bottom of the page to see the pictures of where we will be living. I'm new to this blogging, and couldn't get the full pictures in the body of the blog. I will work on this.

so it starts

2008-12-12T16:07:00.000-08:00

Ed left this morning, he is driving up to Oregon, and then to Washington. To pick up the used airstream we bought. Pictures will be posted soon. I’m going from a two bedroom 1400 square foot apartment, to a 300 square foot trailer. ed’s calling me every hour or so, he’s loving it, leaving LA, the long drive, his mind is off and traveling down roads, while I’m at home, sick and curled up on the couch. I think my skull in going to pound itself out of my head.

my style

2008-12-09T20:28:00.001-08:00

Greetings.

so i've started another blog, for those of you who care, this one is intended to be the rough draft on my book-in-progress, "Around the World on a Student Loan"
the address is: http://zappalinda.blogspot.com/

for those of you who don't read my second blog, here is a quick note about my style, Ed felt it was important that i explain.
i don't like to capitalize personal pronouns, sometimes i do sometimes i don't. and i don't obey capitalization rules in general. i don't really understand proper english grammar, i claim it's because i was never taught proper grammar. i like long rambling sentences with lots of commas, but i don't use semi-colons. i also think fragments should be used, you don't really need a complete sentences, as long as the words work in context, what does it matter where the periods go? just wherever it feels like i need to stop.
stop.
i like to play with words, consider the following six sentences:

the cat sat on the mat
on the mat the cat sat
sat the cat on the mat
the cat on the mat sat
on the mat sat the cat
sat on the mat the cat

they all say the same thing, don't they? i mean, they all convey the same message, that there is a cat sitting on a mat, right?
well i think so.

have a good day.

The Transition

2008-12-09T07:51:00.000-08:00

My name is Leah, I am 28, recently married, and living in Los Angeles. And when I say Los Angeles, I mean West Hollywood, more or less. I work in Beverly Hills, the 90210, cause it’s all about the zip code. I travel between the two daily, back and forth, to and from work, and it’s all about the scene, the be seen, and where you are seen, and with who, and what are you wearing and driving. For my livelihood, I manage the money of filthy rich people, and some not so rich, but who manage to retain our services. I see obscene amounts of money being thrown around on frivolous shit. But that’s not the point. My husband too works in Beverly Hills, or did, until recently. Ed was in life settlements, he wrote life insurance policies for high net worth individuals, which are then sold on the secondary market. Well, that was the idea anyway. So in our respective professions, we were skirting on the edge of the money club, the high rollers and fliers, and traders and buyers, and we were planning on joining the club ourselves. The country club isn’t so much our scene, but it was part of the game, and we would have money to play with.
Well, I’m sure you noticed, I spoke of my husband's job in the past tense, as the credit markets tightened, his company, which needed heavy capital flow to operate, started to implode, and he, although part owner, was quickly ousted with no warning and no severance. So we are faced with an option, my job does not provide enough to maintain the two of us here, so we could stay here living our LA life going into debt, Ed could find a job he doesn’t like and that doesn’t pay as well, or move elsewhere with a lower cost of living and start over there. I’m getting tired of the city, and it’s non-stop video game action, Ed’s never lived anywhere except in the metropolitan area that is LA, and we have both been itching for a change, I just did not expect it would happen so soon, or that it would take this form, but we got kicked out the door and are under duress.
Ed’s folks, who are getting on in years, have a 5-arce farm in southwest Oregon. We have talked in the past that we would like to get a hold of that property, for our own retirement. It’s in the middle of a valley, surrounded by vineyards and farmers. Well, Grant and Carol suggested that we move up now, we can get back on our feet and help them around the farm. I’m having more of a panic episode than Ed is, especially given that it was him who lost his job. But I am learning to let go of whatever it is that I’m holding onto and explore this new segment of my life. And there is a peace there, at the bottom of the panic and several bottles of wine.
Another constant topic of conversation between my husband and I, is the unhealthy, unnatural way in which humans pass through this life, (this is a very large topic on which I could write a book, and maybe one day I will). And I like to come up with ways and means in which we can live more in tune with nature. We bought a Toyota Prius, and recycle, and use our own cloth bags at the grocery store. But we are still living in an artificial environment. Eating packaged goods, fruit that was picked 10 days and 5000 miles ago, and half of it doesn’t taste that good, but I’m a picky eater so that doesn’t mean anything. And these things weigh upon our consciousness. I studied anthropology, Ed studied philosophy, I thought you should know this, as it greatly effects the prism through which we view the world.
I grew up on somewhat of a farm, although it was in Tucson, AZ. But my dad managed to keep a garden, it was bigger than our house, and he spent more time out there then he did in the house. We always had fresh fruit and veggies, let’s see, corn, tomatoes, cucumber (although it took him a few years to find a cucumber variety that did not grow bitter in the desert) squash, beans, mint, grapes, apricots, lemons, pecans (it takes seven years for a pecan tree to start producing) oranges, I can’t remember it all. We had a pig once, some sheep (that all ended up in our freezer), chickens (I had to go collect eggs). However I also grew up in restrictive religious household, and am having to tease out in my head, that I can take joy in the more domestic aspects of life, and joy in working the earth and self-sustaining, without feeling stifled or shafted into that roll. This is my task. Along with figuring out what I want to do with my life and how to get there.
First things first, we are buying a used Airstream trailer, via Craigslist with the aid of Grant, Ed’s step-dad. This too has been a stressful process, and it’s still in process. I’m going to be living in a trailer. This is also a difficult bone to swallow. I have an impressed image of a dumpy trailer with pleated beige sides, with a bad painting of an eagle and squiggly multi-colored lines down the side panel, surrounded by trash and broken down vehicles, empty bottles, and inside there was a fat drunken man on the couch yelling at the woman in the kitchen with the sink overflowing with dirty dishes, and the two year old with a sagging diaper crawling across the filthy floor. Okay, that’s not going to be my trailer, we are getting an Airstream, classic you see, and Ed is anal about cleanliness, so that helps, and we won’t be in a trailer park in the desert, we’ll be on a 5-arce lush farm.
I have so much to learn, and little time to learn it in, but really I have all the time in my life to learn. I want to learn composting, and winemaking. Ed wants to raise Alpacas, they are sheared for their wool, and bred, so we could get stud fees. But that is down the road. We will eventually build a log cabin, as environmentally friendly as possible. And when Ed’s folks pass on we will transform their house into a guest house, and turn part of the barn into a studio, and our little farm can be an artist's community, where people can come and contribute and create. At least that’s the idea. But first we need to get jobs as soon as possible after arriving, and establish ourselves.
It’s hard, you know, firstly because during this phase of our transition, Ed is able to be at home, with the windows open and his music playing, and he has the leisure to collect his thoughts and organize the house, preparing for the move. I, on the other hand, am still obliged to an office, and all the stresses that come along with it, and haven’t had as much time to sit and be with my thoughts as he has. Due to the complicated nature of my work, and the smallness of my office, I now have the pleasure of finding and training my replacement. Which is eating time out of my workday, and adding to the stress. I get very little relaxing in, and I was never that good at relaxing anyway.
And here we are, and from here we go. I sometimes wonder how far I’ll go. Will we get a cow, and I’ll milk it myself, and make my own cheese, grow my own cotton, make my own clothes, make my own paper? I will try to grow as much food as I can. Potatoes for sure. Also I want to harvest rainwater, use it to water the plants and animals. It rains a lot there, so I’ll have to learn the proper storage of water, and filter it for drinking water.
I have concerns about the circumstances. The major one is that I will be living on the same property as my in-laws, who I don’t know that well, but what I do know of them concerns me as being over-bearing and abrasive. But good, good folk trying to get by best they know how.