Cellphone Buying Spree

As a Neo-Luddite I proudly own a bottom of the line Tracfone and subscribe to their Service Protection Plan, wherein I can buy service time without buying minutes.  This satisfies my sense of frugality while accommodating my husband's desire for me to have an emergency phone.

Craig has a cell phone.  With a camera.  And he had scoodles of time because I got a deal.  Today he had 4 minutes left.  He should have had considerably more.  I discovered that he was staying up late at night and buying ring tones and graphics on his phone while he waited to get sleepy.  It is the curse of the Man-child.  He is old enough to have a phone so if anything went wrong he could call someone.  He is old enough to text his sister with odd statements and questions.  But he has no concept of money.  Zero.  Zilch.  Wait, take that back.  He understands you need money to buy things, but he doesn't seem to get that there is a limited supply of it.  *sigh*  Does that mean he's "Normal" in that area?  Why couldn't he have picked a cheaper arena to be "Normal" in?  I can just see him at 1 AM, hugging his teddy bear and buying NFL ring tones and weird graphics, talking to his imaginary friends:  "Oh, you like this one?  I'll buy it for you."

We had a conversation about this buying spree at breakfast, but I don't think it made much of an impression.  Maybe if I have Uniqua write him a letter about it he might pay attention.  Okay, I know it's wrong to use a person's imaginary friends against them, but what's a mother to do?  I settled for rationing his minutes and scolding him.

Uniqua probably patted him on the back and told him not to worry.  I don't stand a chance.

Mission Accomplished

The Bunny Hutch is all painted and installed in the Rabbit Pen.  The Fabulous Hop Away Door is open and ready for business.  We are excited to announce that rabbits have been entering and exiting with only the slight inducement of carrot slices in the interior of the hutch.  For all you aspiring Hutch Decorators out there, we painted the exterior in Hunter Green with White Tim.  You may have astutely noticed one piece of trim missing.  This will be rectified shortly. 

The Rabbits really seem happy and if we never got offspring to eat it would still be worth it.  Astonishingly enough, it is Ronny, not I, who has a tendency to "pettify" our animals. I believe he would be happy even if the chickens stopped laying.  This is homesteader heresy, of course, but he must be forgiven because this was all my idea and it is only by his indulgence that the whole exists. 

So, Roam in Relative Freedom, Rabbits!  We shall enjoy your exploits no matter what the future brings. 

Bunny Camp

You see the two white blobs in the picture above?  They are my blindingly white meat rabbits in their new pen.  We have their old box in there while we finish the hutch, and they are able to run around and burrow a little bit in their fenced in area.  This was very important to Ronny, who hides a very soft heart beneath a gruff exterior. 

Above you see a Face Off between the rabbits and a chicken.  The chickens had to be forcibly removed from the rabbit area.  They kept coming in until the rabbits asserted their territorial rights and scared them.  They haven't been in since. 


I am really enjoying the rabbits much more than I thought I would. I have to be careful not to get too fond of them since we will be eating their offspring.  It's almost enough to make me want to try vegetarianism again. 

Nah.  Me like meat. 

I Hab a code in the head

Miscellaneous facts making up the fabric of my day:

I have a cold in the head and chest.

I have a partly painted rabbit hutch standing in the middle of my living/dining area. 

I have to rewash all the laundry I did yesterday because it smelled bad.

I have not gone grocery shopping this week and it is starting to show.  We are down to Santita's corn chips, and I may actually have to use the stove to make pop corn once we run out.  (No!,  Not the Stove!)

I deactivated my facebook account yesterday, and have to fight a compulsion to go check it. 

Thank you, doctor, for your house call.  Can I put this one on my tab?

Apology Pancakes

This all started with the fact that My Computer has been set up in The Playroom for some time now.   Ronny was kind enough to set up a tabletop on two sawhorses for my use, but it became evident that I was taking up room in the playroom that Craig's ever-expanding guitar collection needed, so with the move into a different space came the need for a smaller desk. 

It's a nice enough desk, but putting it together made me cranky.  And then I had to move all the computer stuff from one room to the other.  ( I hate cables and plugs and mess!)  And then I had to deal with the fact that I hated the mess it all made in the dining area because it ruins my OCD minimalist look.  I did not deal with it well.  I just got crankier.

Isn't it silly how you can start out doing something for the nicest of reasons and then ruin it all by being unkind to the person you were trying to do something for in the first place?  Of course, other people never have this problem, I'm sure.  But me, guilty.

So I went to 'sleep in a provoked state' of my own making, slept badly because of it, and then went in to apologize to Craig.  I got hugs and kisses for my efforts and rewarded such loyalty with homemade pancakes.  When I grow up I want to be like Craig. 

One Giant Step for a Bunny

Have you been holding your breath in anticipation of the next installment in our Bunny Saga?  Well, you may exhale. 

After an unbelievably bad night's sleep and a lost morning, I woke with poison ivy all over my forehead, around my right eye, in and behind my right ear and on the back of my neck.  Oh, happy day.  I believe I contracted this bumpy disorder while "foraging" for the rabbits.  Nonetheless, this poor start to the day did not stop me from sharing in the construction of the famed Rabbit Hutch. 

Like a Good Homesteader, we salvaged most of the materials for this project from scrap lumber we had been storing.  (We stored it in the Dining Room, and it didn't stress me out at all.  *twitch*)  We only purchased some 2x4's and some hinges and a latch. 

This is picture intensive, people, so be patient. 

This is the back and sides.  The two back legs are on. 

With front legs attached and standing upright. 

This is much further along.  I had to go in and lay down because I got sick from the heat.  It was 104 on the back of the house where we were.  When I came back out he had framed out the floor and the top.  Wow. 

I know it's a rabbit hutch story!  But even the chickens were interested! 

With hardware cloth on the floor and the front.  But what, you ask, is that open space on the front for? 

It's for the hop-away door, silly! 

And the bunnies are moved in!  The roof is just temporary, but they don't care.  Tomorrow we will move the hutch into the chicken yard and set up a rabbit section of fencing with a wire floor.  That way they can hop in and out and be happy little bunnies.  I will get them a bale of straw to tunnel into and I will try to give them a  "natural" life as much as I can. 
Well, we come to the end of our Bunny House Adventure, and as is fitting, I will let the Bunny have the last word: 

"But it doesn't have a patio!"

(Mr. Bunny needs to work on gratitude.)

Letterfu and Jane Austen

http://ottoman.typepad.com/ottoman/2010/01/jane-austen-and-letter-folding.html

If you are acquainted with Jane Austen, then you are likely familiar with the importance of letter writing.  You may not be aware, however, that in Regency Times the letter itself would often serve as the envelope.  Thus the letter above, where the writer wrote a proper letter from the top of the page, turned it on it's side and "crossed the lines."  This way the back of the letter was free from writing, and once folded, was used to address and "frank" the letter.

One place to visit, according to Ottoman.typepad.com, for a step-by-step tutorial regarding the subject is Regency Letter Writing from The Jane Austen Centre. There one can learn to cultivate the art for themselves.

Or, for the more contemporary among us, there is Letterfu.com.  There are designs to print out for such creative use of paper, and once folded according to the directions, the stamp itself seals the letter which can then be mailed.

Far be it from me, a blogger, to bemoan the use of the internet for purposes of communication, but isn't it nice to get an actual letter in the mail?  (See Confessions of a Luddite, posted 6/6/10) 

http://www.janeausten.co.uk/graphics/figure7.jpg

We certainly have it easier than Jane, with her quills and nibs and ink wells.  We're still allowed to use our computers to type our Letterfu.  Aren't we?  Remember, I'm only a Neo-luddite.  

Cup of Joe

I have a confession to make.  Other than when I was a little girl sitting upon my daddy's knee, slurping dunked doughnuts or Stella Doro Sponge Cookies, I have not imbibed coffee.  I have no religious objections.  I just have never liked the taste.

But this last month I have brewed two cups of coffee for myself and enjoyed them.  I will admit to flavoring the brew with either an almond extract or a vanilla extract.  I will further admit to two generous spoonfuls of sugar and a third of a cup of milk.  I will even state that such a concoction might even be said to be more of a Child's Cup Of Coffee than that of an adult.

I still am not overly fond of the taste.  But, boy, does it wake me up!

Chores

                                     

Some things we do at Good Enough Farm might be thought of as chores by outsiders, but regarded by the residents as fun.  Egg gathering is one example.  My Son-In-Law gathered eggs for me one morning, thinking he was making the day easier for me.  I had to explain that collecting eggs is, in fact, one of the high points of my day.  And now that we've got so many Layers that holds even more true.

I get to hunt for Mrs. Duck's egg every morning, because she hides it in the wood shavings she made her nest from.  She buries it, trying to keep it from me.  But I am smarter than Mrs. Duck.  Most of the time.

We have Sunrise Layers, Noon Layers and Mid-Afternoon Layers.  So we check for eggs three times a day.  We have a Black Australorps who has gone broody and she spreads herself out over everyone else's eggs, waiting for the impossible.  I pick her up and put her outside several times a day, but she goes back in and sets in that corner, even when there are no eggs.  I will have to be more severe with her, tucking a few ice cubes under her, if she does not give it up by tomorrow.

I also enjoy pulling up grass and greens for the rabbits.  I am using the unwelcome strip of weeds and grass in the center of the driveway for this.   That's one way to get rid of it.

One of my least favorite chores is gathering rocks.  The hens scratch a lot of rocks up out of the ground, and eventually their yard is just a mess of rocks.  After stumbling over them for the last two weeks I set my mind to the fact that I will have to rake them up and haul them out.

That was today's mission:  Rake and Remove.  I got three wheelbarrows full of rocks out of there, wheeled them down the hill, across the flat, up the hill of the driveway, where I dumped them into the long rut that storm water has carved into the side of the driveway. 

By 3:15 PM I declared myself done for the day--okay, for the week--and bowing to the thunderstorm that was now producing rain, took myself inside for a well deserved shower.  My only remaining chores for the day are to produce a dinner for everyone and then to collapse into bed.  I think that may be my favorite chore of all.

  www.flicker.com
http://s0.geograph.org.uk/geophotos/01/20/05/1200512_aac107b2.jpg

My Chickens are Heroes?

The other morning I went in to wake Craig up and he said, "Mom, the chickens are singing!"
I replied, "Yes, they are.  It's their Egg Laying Song."
He returned, "No, it's something off of Guitar Hero One, but I can't tell which song." 

Gotta love my BubbaHead. 

My Apologies to Maurice

At odd times throughout the day, while cleaning up in the kitchen, I will have items which most people would tuck happily into a trash can or pour down the sink.  Example:  a bowl of leftover milk and soggy cereal.  Certainly not my cup of tea. 

But this same unhappy dish, when taken outside anywhere near the chickens,  will elicit such a response that there is only one way to describe it: 

A Wild Rumpus, Indeed.

Mrs. Duck Lays An Egg

cks

I had noticed yesterday that Mrs. Duck seemed to be building a nest for herself in the back corner of their little house, but didn't think too much of it.  We got back rather late from the Kingdom Hall last night and The Ducks were already in bed so I didn't get a look.  But this afternoon, after a Lowe's Supply Run, I crawled back in there to take a look and found three eggs.

You might imagine with the heat we have been having that they were not to be trusted, so I fed one to the cat and took pictures of the other two before safely disposing of them.

For those of you who care about such things, here is a side by side of a new Duck Egg and a new Hen Egg:

The Duck Egg is a little wider and just a tad longer.  We have great hopes for Mrs. Duck and her eggs.  I believe that with the addition of 7 eggs a week from her to the almost 10 a day from the Hens that I can put an ad in Craigslist for local free range eggs. I'd like to sell egg subscriptions, if you know what I mean, but we'll play it by ear and see what happens.

Waiting Room

Today was Waiting Room day for the inhabitants of Good Enough Farm.

6:30 AM  Get up and go into Lynchburg to Johnson Health Center to stand in line at door.
7:45 AM  Stand in line inside to get on Walk In Patient List.
8:15 AM  Back home for Breakfast.
10:45 AM Go Back into Lynchburg to wait for my turn as a Walk In Patient
1:15 PM  Finally got my refill for Paxil.  Had to sit thru a mild lecture on taking my health care more seriously--which I presume means blood work.  I have a pulse rate of 60 and a BP of 106/60.  I'm not worried. 
By the Time I got back home Ronny had gone into Bedford to pick up his New Dentures!   So I'm waiting on the Tooth Fashion Show that will arrive home soon. 

Twins

Whose Bright Idea Was It Anyway?

Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy.  Like when I come up with the idea to raise the bead board on the mural wall in the Great Room to ceiling height.  This sounds much easier than it is.  Because before you can put anything up you have to take everything down.  The mural, of course, then all the trim, the bead board that is up to chair rail height, the chair rail, a track light that goes over the kitchen counter because it's connected to the trim which is in the way of the bead board...

The first three sheets were easy to put up.  Unless you consider the fact that the wall has no studs an impediment.  All the tried and true stud-finding methods were used:  Stud Finder.  Fail.  Measuring the normal distance between studs from the wall out.  Fail.  Knocking on the wall until it sounds different.  Fail.  Nailing into the wall willy nilly in the off chance you will find one.  Fail.  Finally Ronny decided the best stud locating procedure was the repeated application of the claw end of the hammer through the drywall. (Shh.  Don't tell anyone.)  The worst part is he still didn't find a stud.  But that's why God invented Liquid Nails Construction Adhesive, isn't it?  We don't need studs!  We've got glue!

Then we come to the really painstaking part:  the ceiling rise.  See, in this picture:

The "peak" in the ceiling above where the bead board sheets end.  Yeah.  Pain in the whatsits.  But I got it done by about 8 PM.  Now I just have to patch all the gaps and the seams, put the trim back up, reinstall the track light, prime, paint, clean up.

I should be done before January.

Counting My Blessings

"Every good gift and every perfect present is from above, for it comes down from the Father of the celestial lights.” (James 1:17)

1.  Two Old Biddy Hens trying to lay eggs at the same time.  Either that or they were keeping warm the four eggs already there

2.  My Bestest Bubba Head filling up the Duck Pond with clean water.  Mr.  Duck likes clean water.  This is Mr. Ducks blessing.  I'm not sure how Mrs. Duck feels about it as it usually means Mr. Duck will get frisky.  Mrs. Duck does not always appreciate Mr. Ducks displays of  "affection".

 3.  More Compost in the Compost Pile.  I keep it safe from the chickens by wrapping fencing around it.  The chickens still huddle around it looking for scraps of delectablity that fall through.

 4.  Mr. and Mrs. Rabbit, who will provide kits which will become meals.  This is a future blessing, but even now they are a pleasure to watch.

5.  Right in the center, where the leaves come out, is a flower.  This means at least one eggplant will come to live in my garden.  My tomatoes are beginning to produce as well.  Not a great garden year, but there are still dreams of Tomato Sauce dancing in my head.


So, there are five blessings I found in my own backyard farm today. 

Here We Go, Here We Go, Here We Go Again

Well, what I had thought to be a few days of bad mood has revealed itself for what it truly is.

It doesn't do any good to be tired of having depression.  But I am.  I even posted a rant on a BBC News bit about "fairness".  I should make a rule that I am not allowed to post when I am this way.  But I would probably break it and say, "Who are YOU to tell ME what to do?!"

I have authority issues I'm working on.

Maybe I'll go outside into the heat and humidity and yuck and clean out the hen house.  Maybe if I clean all the poop out of the hen house all the poop in my head will join it in the compost pile.  It's a sort of symbolic medicine.  Or further evidence that I have completely lost it.  I'll let you decide.

http://www.annejulie-art.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/04/melancholia_thumb.jpg

Sometimes I don't know how I get from there to here....

The rabbits have been living under the back steps for almost a month now and it is time to move them to  proper quarters.  I have been looking for inspiration online and have two images which seem to be the two ways to go in hutches:

and the other:

Now, the first hutch may be more aesthetically pleasing to some with its fancy siding forming a lovely sort of box for your rabbits.  But I think rabbits like the air.  I'm almost positive they would rather be able to feel the breeze flow through their living quarters.  This flies in the face of reason, I know, since rabbits do live underground and no breezes would be blowing through their dens.  But observation of my rabbits is that they like to be in their breezeway, not in their box.  For this reason I am thinking I will construct a domicile somewhat like the second image with it's fabulous "Hop Way Door!". 

The Hop Way Door! is meant to lead your bun-bun to a fenced in area where they can kick up their heels in proper bunny joy and live a life more in line with nature.  Sort of a rabbit tractor, if you can imagine it.  Since our rabbits will be in a fenced in area anyway we will just make sure that there are no points of escape. 

 Pastured Rabbits at Polyface Farm, Staunton, Virginia

I will admit to having done research on the feasibility of a "Rabbit Colony" much like the ancient Romans used to do, but it has been treated with such disdain by Proper People that I feel guilty for even contemplating it.

One detailed description (and dismissal) of a colony is from the book The Homesteaders Handbook to Raising Small Livestock:  
In one particular case, an area 16x16 feet was marked off and was dug out to a depth of two feet.  At the corners, 12 foot posts were placed, two others were set at the middle of one side for a doorway, and center posts were set on the other three sides.  
Bales of hay were stacked tightly in the depression, two bales thick.  Poultry mesh was stapled to the posts, a hinged door set in place, and the entire thing was covered with black plastic for waterproofing.  A large water trough was made from an eaves trough, and some oats, bone meal, and mineral was tossed on the hay.
One bred doe was placed in the enclosure.  When her first litter was weaned, she was rebred and returned to the warren.  After that, except for watering and feeding (grain and kitchen and garden waste), the rabbits were ignored for six months.
At that time, so the report went, the family of seven removed as many rabbit fryers as it wanted...The rabbits tunneled into the hay and lived a fairly natural life.
For the homesteader who doesn't really care that much about rabbits, or who (mistakenly, in my opinion) isn't interested in stock improvement, this system could have some merit.  There is no opportunity for selective breeding, which means the quality of the stock will be gradually lowered...So far as real rabbit breeders are concerned, this is just one step above going out in the woods and hunting rabbits. 

Well, don't I just feel silly for even thinking such a thing?  Perhaps I am not a serious homesteader. 

No, I'm sure of it.  I'm not serious at all.

How To Cure A Bad Mood

Whilst I am not a kitten and sleeping on a guitar in my present form would surely be neither a comfortable nor practical endeavor,  I am recommending the application of sleep to the eyelids as a cure for The Bad Mood I Had Today.

As Ronny continued his (de)construction efforts in the bedroom throughout the day, with various Fox News broadcasters lending their cheery comments in the background, I stole two pillows and crawled into Craig's bed at the far end of all the nonsense in the house and took a nap.

I ignored all chicken singing, duck quacking, guitar playing, bunny thumping, nail hammering and slipped into the bliss of unconsciousness.  Ronny woke me to tell me he was off to work and said something about the stack of lumber on one side of the bedroom as opposed to the stack of lumber on the other side of the bedroom.  I believe he had some thoughts that I would do something with one or the other.  Yes, I shall step over them quite carefully as I make my way to bed tonight. 

Tomorrow is another day, and I shall make sure to get up on the right side of the bed, because there are nails on the floor on the left.

If I was a donkey....or something

Ever have one of those days where just nothing is working right?  Mine started about 4 AM when my insomniac husband decided to turn on the TV, evict me from the bedroom and perform various and bizarre acts of "construction" on his homemade entertainment center.  Seriously.  He decided to take it apart and re-construct it a little lower.  At 4 AM.

Next indignity heaped upon me:  second day of cramps and a tendency to whine and a desire to just sit down and have a good sob.

Third:  The few bills we have all seemed to go up.  Today.  Just this second.  Because they can.

Fourth:  Ronny's employer shortchanged his check on Friday and promised to fix it on Monday.  What day is it now?  Want to guess if they've fixed it?  Want to guess who had to cancel an eye exam (even though they are absolutely blind!) because the money was not in the bank yet?

I have to stop now because I'm depressing myself.  I hope I've depressed you as well, because I need some company to be miserable with.

Tea and Cowardice

Ronny has a strange notion of farming which involves letting fenced in animals out every once in a while to experience freedom.  This is all well and good for him, as once he lets them out he goes inside and leaves me to "shepherd".  You might imagine how I feel about all of this.  Yeah.  

So, today he let the rabbits out--yes, I said, the rabbits--and so there I am running around trying to keep the chickens from pecking at them, keeping the drake from trying to mate with one of them through the fence, and blocking up all their points of exit from the main garden area.  

Meanwhile, I had put water on to boil for a cuppa, and asked Craig to turn it off as I would not be able to do so.  After my shepherding patience ran out and I tucked the bun-buns in for their own good, I went back in to resume my tea making.  Lo and Behold, My Sweetest Bubba Head had made "tea" for me.  

Here is his recipe:
Lukewarm water (so he didn't burn himself)
1/2 cup of milk ("I like milk, don't you, Mom?")
2 tablespoons of sugar ("that's how much coffee I put in the coffeepot when I make Dad coffee".)


You may have noticed an oversight in the recipe.  Now I was faced with a horrible choice:  drink my lukewarm oversweetened  milk or make it properly.  I will confess that I took the cowards way out.  I diplomatically suggested that Daddy liked lots of sugar, but I preferred less sugar, and did he mind if I started over?  He was agreeable to such a decision.  As I reheated the water and nonchalantly placed a tea bag in the cup, he exclaimed, "Oh, the tea goes in first!"  

I just chuckled and said, "But you are still my sweetest Bubba head." 
He smiled back. "Thanks, Mom."
You know, that's all the sugar I need in my tea.