Freedom Isn't Free!

Just Another Monday

Today started with shoveling snow off my car…yeah, that’s suicide right there, lol.  So I could drive my two dogs to the vet.  One for her usual acupuncture appointment (trust me, it works), the other for more blood work to chase out the reason he is underweight, throwing up occasionally, and drinking scads of water. 

First I upended up the vet’s office by offering that instead of barfing once a week per usual, we’d had a lovely 3 day (well ok, middle of the night) weekend of bile everywhere… So glad I just invested in that new carpeting…so now he needs to be shot up with fluids as well.

We get through the sticking of needles in various dogs, and I am standing at the counter to pay when I run into a friend and her dog coming out of a different room (distraction).  Dogs and I leave to vet #2.  (because there’s no time to drop acupuncture dog off at home in between, and it’s too cold for her to wait in car for dog 2, so we are both there for his appointment).  Some hours later, I am asked to pay (also exorbitant) vet 2.  Wallett????  Well I hadn’t stopped between vet one and 2, so…back to vet 1 for wallet left on counter, being grateful for many reasons besides the one that I had JUST ENOUGH gas to retrieve said wallet and make it to the nearest (also $$$$) gas station.   

And there is the simplistic version of my Monday.  Let’s not even go into the nuances of ‘the plan’.  It involves me driving my car coupled to a small trailer carrying a motorcycle.  In the car should be me, my two dogs, my dear friend of 22 years.  The goal? 3 months traveling Mexico, Belize, Guatamala.  An open ended, evolving as we go plan.  The current hitch? Yeah, this guy. 

He's worth it all. Stay tuned.

Buried

By now most of you know my strong aversion to funerals.  All that sad boo-hoo, woe is me, why did my loved one have to die?  I dunno, because he/she was 102 and that’s how life works?  Yes, it is tragic when someone living a wonderful life has to go, and you will miss them to the ends of the earth.  No doubt about it, death sucks for the living. But funerals don’t seem to me to be a good way to celebrate someone’s life.

My friends know what to do with me when I push off for the next port.  Cremate me; stick me in a clear mason jar.  Put me on the ‘round table’ at my favorite shipyard, where everyone gathers.  On a pedestal of course, so I can see over the booze bottles.  Make sure there’s lobster and mussels.  Have a big, happy party.  Tell funny stories about me.  No crying!  I lived well, and it was my time, even if it wasn’t.   Then, at the end of the evening, (maybe a less intoxicated person should carry the jar to the water, because I would hate to spend eternity pasted to the blacktop), whoever’s drunkest gets to dump me out the end of the pier in my favorite harbor, so I can theoretically drift on the currents. 

The only problem with this plan is that all my friends are significantly older, so odds are right up there that I’ll be the last man standing.  Which leads to my new plan, as I rapidly approach that age where the early leavers are starting to bugger off with hardly a see ya later.  I don’t want to watch my friends kick off one by one, facing  all those sad, somber funerals that the remaining relatives will put on, leaving no one left to come to my party. 

So, as much as I love you all, sorry, but I’m going to have to replace you all with a bunch of 20 year olds.  

*this post is for 1dozenraw.  Enjoy the next port my friend.

When Life Hands You Chickpeas

PANIC!!!

I feel so bad for these companies that show a bit of something that might actually kill the weakest of our species, which these days seems to be a growing number.  As someone who lives on an organic farm where all precautions are taken at all times, I know just how ridiculously low the acceptable numbers are.  Just like the level of acceptable radiation was low till the earthquake in Japan sent their nuclear reactors’ waste into the air and sea.  After that, governments worldwide raised the acceptable level.  Now a higher level than was previously ok won’t kill us?  Huh, imagine that.

Whenever a company shows a tiny bit of listeria, a common bacteria found in SOIL and WATER, everyone goes nuts and throws away whatever they may have, and will never ever buy that brand again.  I, on the other hand, go the opposite way and buy more, unless it’s already something I don’t eat, like ice cream, which is made with dairy and sugar, two things I avoid.  I still remember the glory days of tomatoes and cantaloupes showing signs of listeria, because, you know, they grow in soil and get watered.  I love both, and during that phase, stores were all but giving them away as no one would buy them.  I wish more fresh food would make this list more often; I could afford to shop again.  I ate gobs of tomatoes and mountains of cantaloupes, until the furor wore off and people forgot and prices crept back up again.

I know that although we are human, we are entities made up of bacteria, as is everything else.  If listeria levels across the board suddenly went up on earth and therefore in everything we eat, the government would simply raise the acceptable level as they did with radiation.  Then none of these ‘scary/dangerous’ foods would be a threat according to the new 'ok' levels.  What would remain the same is that only the weakest would be affected, which is nature intended.  Last I checked she’s still in charge, despite humans believing they control the universe.  And in nature, the weak aren't designed to survive.

I usually make my own hummus using sprouted chickpeas, as it’s cheaper and better, but now, stores will most likely be giving away hummus, so I’m off to the store to splurge.  Think I'll survive? 

Hick Chicks

We were parked outside the back door of one of the city’s finest restaurants, unloading boxes of organic greens, when a young woman popped out the kitchen door, approached us, and asked,

“Do you know where I can get the tea from here?”

I looked at my delivery partner; she looked blankly back at me. It turned out that we were both thinking the same thing: why would this person not ask the kitchen staff about their tea, and what was so good about it that she wanted some so badly?

I said, “ I’m sorry, what?”

“The tea,” she repeated. “You know, the train.”

Duh, oohhhh. The T. By way of explanation for my ignorance, I pointed to the out-of-state farm plate on the delivery van. She shook her head and went back inside the restaurant to ask less countrified people about transportation.

Don't Mess With the Redneck Chicks

A true story of my ‘hood.

Two guys in their early 20’s had been burglarizing in the city for a while, but it was getting old. Since the downturn in the economy, there were always so many nosy neighbors gadding about, reporting suspicious activity. It was hard to get away cleanly.

“Ya know what we need to do?” says one. “what?” says the other. “Jack a white van and head to the ‘burbs. All those folks are loaded, and no neighbors would think twice about a white van in the drive. We’ll go in all cool like we’re workin there, and all will be golden.”

“Man, that’s a great idea. Lets go look for a van.”

Fast forward to the duo driving south out of the city, because that’s where they heard all the rich folk live.

They drive blindly, and find a remote house on a quite street. 'Yeah, this is it. Let’s go.'

They are used to folk who work 9-5. It’s 2. They bust in, and start grabbing stuff they want to take.

Being latchkey kids, they have no concept of mom coming home to meet the bus at 3.

Mom pulls into her single lane drive behind the white van. 'Hmmm, I’ve requested no workmen….what’s up?' She walks in to find her possessions piled by the front door. And does country mother freak out, run screaming from the house? Nah, not in this hood. She’s had a rough day, and all that anger is burning…"HEY ARE YOU ASSHOLES STEALING MY HARD EARNED STUFF???" The said assholes stand stunned, like deer caught in the headlights….And Country Mom starts throwing punches. "NONONONO…..you dumbf*cks"….The yelling and screaming goes on, far beyond what these city boys have ever encountered, and the two robbers think, hell the neighbors gotta notice, we’d better bail….but Mom’s car is blocking their stolen vehicle. Crap, nothing to do but head for the woods. How bad can it be? Les Stroud and Bear Grilis do it all the time…..

Yeah well, this is swamp yankee woods. Its entirely filled with briars and muck.

The police report stated that the suspects were apprehended shortly after dark……

Of course they were, pansy city boys…no doubt running down the road, hands in the air, shouting, 'for gosh sakes someone call the cops to arrest us. Get us out of here and take us to jail where it’s warm and dry.'

I hope the word spreads: don’t underestimate country folk, especially swamp yankees. You city folk may be used to living behind lock and key, but we in the woods know that our muck is mightier, and we’re not putting up with any crap from you.

Burned out on Christmas

Maybe if it hadn’t started in September, I wouldn’t be sick of it. And playing Christmas carols two weeks before thanksgiving? I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.

I try my best to support my wonderful local hardware store filled with personable, knowledgeable staff, but occasionally find that I have to set foot in that big dumb chain hardware store, like the other night. My hardware store closes at six. I foolishly ran out of thread sealant tape at 7, and if I didn’t go get some right then to finish the plumbing job, there would have been no water until the next day.

Ever since there were green leaves on the trees, I’ve I entered through the contractors entrance in an attempt to avoid the massive Christmas display. I also try to avoid the orange panhandling employees, which is nearly impossible. 'Would you like a quote on a new kitchen?' 'Can we interest you in our flooring?' 'May I show you some options for window replacements?' 'Do you want to see what’s under my orange vest?'

GO AWAY. I JUST WANT SOME DAMN TAPE.

What pushed me over the edge the other night wasn’t that it was impossible not be whacked in the face with a poinsettia in every aisle, nor was it the Christmas music playing for the second month in a row. It was the guy standing next to me, loudly humming along to the carol, completely off key.

I’m blaming this completely traumatic event on the fact that Christmas is now a week away, and I’ve done absolutely NOTHING.*

Can I pull it off before Sunday? Will I find the motivation to care?




*We won’t mention the fact that I just found out that Christmas was a week away, not two like I thought.

Party Animal

At 7, I was slurring my words. By 9, I could hardly hold my head up. Finally, I staggered to bed. The next morning, I woke up with pounding head, cotton mouth, eyes puffy. What the hell did I do last night? I tried to remember…

Oh yeah…Nuttin fun, just rode the rollercoaster of low pressure/high pressure. It appears as though post-lyme, my body has become a human barometer.

If this keeps up, I swear I’m taking up drinking.

Stupid human trick

I returned to the farm at 6:15, bringing my dog in from the car on a leash to prevent her from running off into the dangerous darkness. She and I had only been in the house for about fifteen minutes before the very nearby sound of a pack of wild coyotes chasing some poor hapless critter filled the air.

My reaction as my dog barked? I got up and locked the slider. Because while coyotes may be able to open a slider, they can't do so if it's locked...

At least I had the decency to laugh at my silly self.

Behind the times

Just before Turkey day, these critters were crossing the driveway. The thought crossed my mind to speed up and bag one for our meal. Almost unconsciously I found myself gunning it, but alas, nailing one with the delivery van just wasn't as easy as ripping the door off a taxi cab.

Arisen

Starting the day off right, with an upright boat:


And here she comes, in all her sodden glory:



She's alive, she's alive!!!

Phoenix-"it's not time to rise yet"

Working to get the boat upright to begin pumping out water:



Hey, that's sort of right!



Aw, Crap


The team ashore, collecting more compressed air and lift bags:


And that's the end of today's story. Tomorrow is a new day, and Phoenix WILL rise again.

Sailing Vessel Phoenix-A Brief History

Phoenix IS the replacement boat for Safari, who (and yes boats are people thank you very much) died in a wicked nor'easter in the fall of 2008.

Phoenix is a work in progress, as can be seen here in this photo, taken last year after her unscheduled trip to the beach:
So far we have enjoyed two fantastic Fourth of Julys and one Classic Yacht Regatta aboard her, racing last year as a sloop, because her mizzen mast was still down for repairs. All of us were looking forward to this year's race, now that she has both masts up:

Unfortunately, while the sailing term 'hull down' does apply here, this is not how the phrase was meant to be used. Nor is this how any boat should ever look.

The eternally optimistic owner, who, along with his crew, will work to refloat Phoenix on tomorrow's low tide, is already planning a strategy to repair whatever happened to sink her, and thinks he'll get the motor de-salted and running in time for the next Classic Regatta, scheduled to be held in three weeks.

Given what I've seen him and his crew accomplish on the other boat disasters, I wouldn't be surprised if that all came together.

And then after that, he'll give up his current job to start a new company: Phoenix Salvage Operations.

Our hearts are with you my friend, and our willing helpful hands, carrying sponges, buckets and blow dryers, are standing by to assist with the drying out process, once Phoenix rises again.

Doom and Gloom

I love listening to all these people who grow their own food and stockpile heaps of necessities in order to be prepared when (insert favorite conspiracy theory here.)

‘I’ll be ready,’ they say. I ask, ‘what if someone comes to take it?’ ‘I have guns’, they say. Really? That’s great. Let’s look at this for a moment. You’re assuming that random strangers are going to be beating down your door in order to steal your stuff.

Hmmmm. No, random strangers don’t know where you live. Who does? Your parents. Siblings. Siblings’ children and spouses. Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, second cousins ten times removed, because haven’t you been faithfully attending family reunions all these years, where you bragged about how prepared you were?

Friends you’ve known from the second grade, and all of their families. Each and every one is someone you care about, on your doorstep, desperate, begging for help. Hundreds of them. What are you going to do? Pick and chose? Shoot them all and fend for yourself?

I ask you, are you really prepared?*








*because it's my blog and I can be a screaming bitch if I feel like it, ok? Which has nothing to with precancerous growth, week long power outages, and a house afire, I swear.

Pining

I won't apologize for a long period of no posting, since choosing what to write when is one of the great prerogatives of a free country. Besides, there's too much to do in our too brief summer to sit inside at the computer. That is a winter activity, which I will be resuming in a few short weeks, along with eternal snow shoveling.

But this morning, since it's downpouring, leaving me unable to fit a finished canvas project on a wet boat, here I sit. Since I already cleaned the house, I'm typing randomly, filling the time until my world dries off a bit.

Fourth of July was a repeat of two years ago, and last year, down to the sunset. Minus our great launch, however, as that boat still isn't in the water. The owner of the boat we partied upon had to ferry us in his inflatable dinghy in shifts, meaning lots more work for him. Also this year, his sailboat had the full complement of two masts, instead of just one.

A friend sailed his small boat up and rafted alongside to enjoy the fireworks. When the show was over, he cast off under sail, gliding past our bow in the darkness.

It's funny how a random image can pitchpole a person right down a wave of memories.

Here is another one that caused me to crave life under sail:


Don't worry, it's only a fleeting feeling. Like a recovered crack addict, the moment will pass, and I'll continue on contentedly with my landlubber life.

It's a Dog's Life

Excuse me for my lack of posting, again, but getting another dog has come with a new full time career: outwitting the wily escape artist.

In the past week+, I have been busy reinforcing, rebuilding, rethinking, and adding catches and latches and gates. I have dug all around my deck and buried planking (hopefully) down past a dog's tunneling ability.

Meet Amphissa (a type of olive). We call her Ampy, because at times she can be a crazy amped up terrier. And of course, a rescue dog never comes without issues. This street dog knows no commands other than sit (we start dog school in two weeks). I still haven't convinced her that it's not ok to sit on the kitchen table and wait for me to come home.

Still, Olive couldn't have asked for a better match, as she and her new best bud spend mass quantities of time happily knocking each other around the triple reinforced fenced yard. They both sleep through thunderstorms, get terrorized by shadows that try to come in the car windows to attack them, and are both non-morning dogs. Nothing beats having a good mate to help terrorize chipmunks and rid the yard of moles.

Goodness knows I needed another tick collector in my life.

Thanks, google

Do you know how hard it is to find good stalkers nowadays?

It’s not like it was in the old days, before the advent of the internet. To be a good stalker, you had to go out and actually find a suitable victim to follow. The time and expense alone weeded out the weak. Not everyone could waste hours touring shopping malls, seedy bistros, used car lots, or other stalkee rich venues, before even beginning to prowl through someone’s life. The dangers inherent in actually physically stalking a person were so much greater. Getting poison ivy while lurking in the bushes was the worst. With no chat forums to support you with the legalities of how far you could go, the odds of getting arrested were huge.

Now that anyone can be a stalker with the simple click of a mouse, without leaving the comfort of home, the quality has deteriorated so greatly that it’s like trying to find a piece of stainless steel in West Marine that doesn’t stick to a magnet or rust the minute you get it wet.

With google blocking my blog as spam, I fear I may have lost the decent stalkers that I worked hard to collect, by crossing that fine line between giving them so much that they didn’t feel special, to that point where they didn’t get enough and went away unsatisfied.

So to you my cherished stalkers, I apologize. Now that my blog has been granted a reprieve from the firing squad, please come back, and I’ll do my best to remain a decent stalkee for you.

Have you seen my marbles?

After spending two solid months working on my boat 12-14 hours a day, the boat went back into the water looking brand new. There was still a boat load of little fiddly projects to be done, but the massive projects were complete. As the boat splashed down, along with a huge sense of accomplishment, I got the overwhelming sensation that I had at least one more boat rebuild in me.

I carried that feeling up until that damn tick got hold of me. Now? Heck, I can’t even rebuild myself, let alone an entire boat. Almost overnight, I morphed from a highly organized, ultra efficient, energetic, fit young human, into a inconscient middle ager. That focused drive I used have? Hmph. Let’s look at an example of how things unfold for me now:

I want to make a shelf for the bathroom. Simple, right? Get a board, cut it to size, screw the brackets to the wall, attach the shelf. On this fine spring morning, let’s get started, shall we? Where the heck did I stash that piece of wood?

I look under the trailer. Look, there’s my rake. I’ve been looking all over for that. I fish out the rake and use it clear some of the debris from the yard. Oh yeah, I was looking for that board, wasn’t I? I head over to house to the basement. No board, but hey, look, the washer. I have to do laundry. I trudge back across the yard, fetch my laundry, and get that started. Oh yeah, the board. Hey, there it is up in the branches of that tree. I wonder why I put it there? Oh well nevermind. I fetch it out. Drat, I need the saw. Where is that? Upstairs in my shop. Back across the yard, go upstairs, get the saw. I see the freezer. Right, I need to defrost some meat for dinner tonight. Look at all that ice in here. This freezer needs defrosting. I may as well sew up the rip in these pants while I wait for the ice to melt. Good job, that’s done.

What was I doing? Oh yeah, a shelf in the bathroom. Back to my place. Forgot the saw, didn’t I? Return back across the yard and upstairs to my shop. Pick up the meat I forgot. That trash bin is kind of full, maybe I should take it out. Head to the dumpster. Go back to work on the shelf. Forgot the saw again, didn’t I? Back to the shop. Oh my, I should water those poor plants. Go downstairs, fetch water, go back upstairs, water plants. Start back downstairs. Dammit, the saw. Finally remembered!

Cut the board. Now, we’re getting somewhere. Hey, look over there by that wall, flowers! Yippee, spring! Walk over to check out the flowers. The bed needs weeding. What was I doing before? Oh yeah, the bathroom shelf. Head back to work on that. The dog greets me. She needs a walk. Let’s take a turn around the fields.

What was I doing? Oh yeah, the bathroom shelf. Look at those dirty car windows! I’d better clean them before my trip to CT tomorrow. Go inside to get window cleaner. What a mess; I left my breakfast dishes. I’d better wash those before they get any crustier. I should check my email to find out what time we’re supposed to meet on Thursday. Appears as though it’s about to rain, and my saw is out there. I’d better get that board in too. Shoot, I need to bring in some wood for the stove. Hey, wasn’t I doing laundry a couple of hours ago? Trudge over and put that in the dryer. Notice the bicycle stored there for the winter. It has a flat tire. Well, it’s almost bike riding season. I should get that out, clean it up, and pump up the tires.

There, now I’m ready to ride. Put the bike back in the basement. Really, it looks like it’s going to snow, not rain. NOOOOO!!! It can’t; it’s spring. Snow will hurt those pretty young flowers. Where did my snow shovel get to? What was I doing? Oh yeah, the bathroom shelf. Damn, the drill needs charging. What will I do for half an hour while that charges? I need to go to the store. Now is a good time.

Go to the store. See that long overdue library book while loading groceries. Take it back. Browse for another book. Remember that groceries are in the car. Go home. Put them away. Dammit, out of those 27 items I bought, I forgot butter, eggs, carrots, tamari sauce, tea bags, kefir and broccoli. Moron. At least I remembered the yogurt raisins. What was I doing before? Oh yeah, the bathroom shelf. I’d better get my skates on. I’m starving. Did I eat lunch? No, forgot again. No wonder I’m so skinny. I’d better marinate that chicken. I’ll have a handful of raisins to keep me going. Drill’s charged. Let’s get that shelf installed. Crap, didn’t I have laundry in the dryer? I’d better get that before it gets dark.

The dog wants to play with her Frisbee. Sure, why not? Toss it until it’s really too dark to see. Ok dog, come in now, before the coyotes come out to eat you. Oh yeah, that bathroom shelf. But first I’d better put the laundry away. Then maybe I should vacuum. Tracked in a lot of crap today. Oh, but before I do that, I should finish that shelf.

AND FINALLY, I FINISH THE SHELF!

It’s dark and I’m exhausted. How the heck did I get so tired when all I did today was make a bathroom shelf?

And there you have it. It’s hard to live with myself. Aren’t you glad you don’t have to?*

*Is it any wonder I haven't posted for so long? I simply get side tracked by all the shiny objects in my path.

Life is like a clean, empty slate

I have nothing to post at this time. My mind is filled with a blank whiteness that won't go away. Jumping up and down doesn't break through it. Whacking it with an axe or trying to set it on fire with hot embers doesn't clear the white film from my sight. I concede defeat, and will have to learn to live with the blank whiteness, until, given some miracle I no longer believe in, the blank whiteness melts away of its own accord.

Winter Camping

Living in a 30 foot RV, you’d think I’d be miserable, camped out in the snow all winter.

You’d be wrong. Yeah, that surprised me too.

I’ll admit it; the start of the cold weather season was tough. The fire wood that had been freshly pulled from the swamp did nothing but smoke and make creosote in my wood stove. I did manage to successfully burn an entire winter’s worth of kindling in a couple of weeks, trying in vain to get the swamp wood alight. As convenient as it was to not have to add any more clothing layers before going outside, I began to tire of wearing my hat and gloves inside all the time. As condensation dripped off everything, I began to wonder where I had stashed my foul weather gear.

I was sure I wouldn’t make it. As my friends watched me suffer, they were anticipating the ‘moving Kit back into the house’ breakfast party.

And then someone swapped me a load of real, non swamp-infested wood in exchange for some canvas work.

Nothing beats a wood stove. My favorite winter morning pastime is to get it cranked to 82 in here, and then don my summer wardrobe, which consists of, well, let’s just say it creates no laundry. On milder days, when temps hover around 20, I can even open the outer door, leaving the storm door in place, which thrills the dog no end, because she can come and go through her dog door at will. For a canine, nothing beats dashing out after squirrels, and then popping back in for a biscuit and a thaw by the wood stove before heading back out for more fun in the snow.




Life ain't so bad.



Now, if we could get rid of that daily snow shoveling routine, I might not even mind winter so much.