There are so many things to talk about, so I tried to keep the subjects limited. Even so, I still racked up quite a list of items with which to yammer. Some of my favorite blogs happen to center on broader areas, like recipes and some of the writing theories, while others talk about my personal life and perhaps even life in general.
Today, I chose to write about life on our homestead. Let me hasten to explain that it is not a homestead as in a traditional homestead. An example of that is the government gives so many acres to a person provided; they improve the land with a building and cultivate it somehow.
My homestead id a knickname for where our home stands.
We have a small acreage, only twelve acres. It isn’t large by any stretch. But as little as it is, it is an enormous amount of work. Our current push is to be more self-sufficient. Yeah, I know everyone wants to do that. Most people say that, but they don’t want to do it. Let me clear something else up. Some of you may be thinking we’re Preppers, someone who thinks the world will end or some such. No. We want to get a hedge on anything that might prove a little trying. This year has opened our eyes to the need to be resourceful. To that end, we are fashioning self-reliance. Is being paranoid?
We lived through the toilet paper shortage, which was ridiculous. There was also a bread shortage here, so I became rather good at making bread, but yeast became short supply. Then it became hard to find meat. Milk became scarce after that. I’m sure all of these shortages had to do with people panicking. But I don’t care. I have ten children to feed, plus the wife and I. panic or not, those things happened, and they were uncomfortable.
So, now we have some animals — pigs, chickens, goats. We plan to add maybe a few cattle and a large garden along with everything else.
With all the silliness going on out there in the “real” world, I can’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to hedge their bet. How many months ago were people hoarding food and buying toilet paper like Montezuma revenged himself in every walk of life. Keep in mind; people were only panicking. They weren’t thinking straight.
Now look around and tell me that people are thinking straighter. The election process has its stressful points, even in good years. This year has a massive amount of people believing the worst possible things about Them.
It doesn’t matter who they are either. Both major parties seem to have large populations that have succumbed to nebulous paranoia and, pointing to a nefarious they or them, and they all seem willing to sacrifice the entire nation to get what they want.
I think this is bullshit.
Do I have friends on both sides of the equation? Why, yes. Yes, I do. Do I think it is in my best interest to distance myself from my friends? Hell, no. Do you honestly believe you will always have a Vulcan Mind-meld with your friends? The year is exceptional, you say. That’s a crock too. Every year has sickness, poverty, and untrustworthy people. I will give you the fact that it is a bit different dealing with a pandemic as it looms over everything. And yes, I realize many people see a conspiracy in the epidemic.
What makes this year what it is would make Lemony Snicket proud — a series of unfortunate events. There may be some dastardly enemy plotting destruction, and we may be in the clutches of an enemy willfully trying to dislodge us from a particular place. Have we forgotten about all of the safeguards we have in place?
In the process of all that has and is happening, there are a lot of people proving themselves untrustworthy.
What do you mean that isn’t fair? Life isn’t fair. If life were fair, I would be six feet tall, devilishly handsome with a full head of hair, and a bestselling novelist. Other things might constitute the concept of fair, but let’s say life isn’t fair. Look. I’m short and bald. And I may never have a bestselling anything while I’m still alive.
Such is the life of an artist.
Well, it’s happened again. I started talking about how much work it takes to run our acreage, and now I’m dying before getting just sales for my books. Isn’t that strange, or should I say, unfortunately?
I will say this, though. I have no idea how farmers do the things they do. The work is herculean. For those who can’t figure out what that means, it references Hercules’ tasks. Farmers have to work as hard as Hercules to finish their work.
I know that every job I have ever done if it was worth doing, was hard. And that includes writing. I’ll further tell you that if I had any sum of money at all for every time Lana, my dance teacher, said one more time; I wouldn’t have to work now. Let’s settle on this. Every person alive has to be a perfectionist in some areas. If not, they would still be bussing tables.
I’m going to part with a snippet from a speech one instructor at the Field Artillery Officer’s Advance Course had addressing success. I’ll have to paraphrase — If you want to be a success, you need two things. Get yourself a tube of Give-a-Shit and squeeze it up your ass. Next, find a large tube of superglue, spread it liberally on your ass, and sit down. Now keep working until accomplishing more than what needs doing, and the superglue has worn off. Do it every day for years, and success might happen.
Okay, now I really have to go. I have a couple of Houdini pigs to catch and then fix their pen … again.