I found a slip of paper reminding me to find this great essay, Being Poor by John Scalzi. I found myself smiling though, at the ridiculousness of it all and the memories it invoked of my own childhood. I might add a few of my own:
Being poor is not being able to go to school for a week because you lost your shoe, and you only have one pair.
Being poor is putting empty food cans back on the shelf so the social worker will think there is enough food in the house.
Being poor is sitting in the dark, sharing one can of corn among five people.
Being poor is your parent's alcohol and drug addiction.
Being poor is not feeling your fingers most of the day in winter, after a morning tractor ride through snow drifts up to the hard road to catch the school bus, with no mittens.
Being poor is an hour bus ride to school and using text books published before you were born, or xeroxed text books.
Being poor is no music, no art, no culture, only tv and the bible.
Being poor is grateful for Christmas vacation, mostly because the well always freezes up about then, and there's no bathing for two weeks, and toilet flushing is rare.
Being poor is converting to being a Jehovah's Witness, because then there's a good reason you don't have any Christmas presents.
Being poor is feeling your friend's luxuriously soft rabbit fur coat, and wondering why you get nothin for Christmas.
Being poor is never believing in Santa Claus or the tooth fairy.
Being poor is not going to the doctor because you can't afford the gas money to get there, even though the medical card pays for the visit.
Being poor is having fun playing in the dug out septic tank after a rainstorm or cooling off in the creek 1/4 mile downstream from a hog confinement farm.
Being poor is being the last person to live in a house, in every place you live.
Being poor is having a chronic sore throat because you have no heat in your bedroom and most of the house.
Being poor is 30 cousins taking turns using the same crib and wearing the same baby clothes.
And the flip side:
Being poor is an adventure.
Being poor makes you adaptable.
Being poor makes you mighty thankful for anything and everything.
Being poor gives you discipline.
Being poor forces you to rely on your community and the gift economy, and all the good feelings that come of it.
carey
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
gratitude
"What's gonna set you free
Look inside and you'll see
When you got so much to say
It's called gratitude"
--the Beastie Boys
Last night I cried. I haven't cried in a while. My heart was bursting with so much gratitude, I couldn't keep those feelings inside anymore.
Yesterday, my good friends Mike and Abby came over. It's so good to hang out with people I care so much about and that care about me. They both listened to me venting about my current living situation and frustrations, and they shared similar happenings and views from their communal living situations. (People can be good people, but sometimes it just doesn't work out living together. Got it.)
Abby put away the massive mounds of dishes in the kitchen. Mike replaced the spurting leaking hose on the sump pump in the basement with a permanent drain so I don't have to switch out the washing machine hose with the sump hose every time it rains hard (which is nearly every time it rains), and so that water doesn't run all over the floor, further contributing to basement mold. When they left, I gave them homemade lacto-fermented sauerkraut and feralberry wine made from yard berries picked by friends.
Ahh, community. If we translated all the good gifts of time and stuff into money, did we equal out? Probably not, but that's the beautiful part of community. Giving and receiving are flip sides of the same coin. It's abundance, flowing freely, acquiring the wealth of community and investing it in renewed friendship. And knowing that I have friends that I can count on, no matter what, there is no substitute, there is nothing that money could buy that can even come close.
The house behind ours is a rental house, and it has a new owner now. I've been talking with the handyman who's fixing it up, and told him we were putting up a privacy fence, and that I really appreciated them cleaning up the overgrowth from their side of the fence so it's easier to get it all done. The owner came by yesterday with a crew of guys with chainsaws. They are not only got started on cleaning up the rest of my side of the fenceline, they also offered to chainsaw the giant pile of wood in my backyard into stove lengths.
I mean, what possesses people to be so utterly nice and selfless? Four guys with chainsaws can make quick work of the pile and the fenceline, so much more than one worn out housewife with hands that can no longer grip anything. I know they are getting a neater property and will hopefully get better tenants, but still. To me, it's a miracle, a godsend. They are going to keep me and my child warm this winter, and there is nothing I can do or say that will ever repay them personally. It's a debt I owe to the universe that I will repay each time I help someone else, and I intend to repay that debt for the rest of my life
And say what you want about rednecks, but they rock in my opinion!! Community still exists, and they get it. I don't care what someone's political beliefs are--you either get community or you don't. They get it loud and clear.
I am overflowing with gratitude.
carey
Look inside and you'll see
When you got so much to say
It's called gratitude"
--the Beastie Boys
Last night I cried. I haven't cried in a while. My heart was bursting with so much gratitude, I couldn't keep those feelings inside anymore.
Yesterday, my good friends Mike and Abby came over. It's so good to hang out with people I care so much about and that care about me. They both listened to me venting about my current living situation and frustrations, and they shared similar happenings and views from their communal living situations. (People can be good people, but sometimes it just doesn't work out living together. Got it.)
Abby put away the massive mounds of dishes in the kitchen. Mike replaced the spurting leaking hose on the sump pump in the basement with a permanent drain so I don't have to switch out the washing machine hose with the sump hose every time it rains hard (which is nearly every time it rains), and so that water doesn't run all over the floor, further contributing to basement mold. When they left, I gave them homemade lacto-fermented sauerkraut and feralberry wine made from yard berries picked by friends.
Ahh, community. If we translated all the good gifts of time and stuff into money, did we equal out? Probably not, but that's the beautiful part of community. Giving and receiving are flip sides of the same coin. It's abundance, flowing freely, acquiring the wealth of community and investing it in renewed friendship. And knowing that I have friends that I can count on, no matter what, there is no substitute, there is nothing that money could buy that can even come close.
The house behind ours is a rental house, and it has a new owner now. I've been talking with the handyman who's fixing it up, and told him we were putting up a privacy fence, and that I really appreciated them cleaning up the overgrowth from their side of the fence so it's easier to get it all done. The owner came by yesterday with a crew of guys with chainsaws. They are not only got started on cleaning up the rest of my side of the fenceline, they also offered to chainsaw the giant pile of wood in my backyard into stove lengths.
I mean, what possesses people to be so utterly nice and selfless? Four guys with chainsaws can make quick work of the pile and the fenceline, so much more than one worn out housewife with hands that can no longer grip anything. I know they are getting a neater property and will hopefully get better tenants, but still. To me, it's a miracle, a godsend. They are going to keep me and my child warm this winter, and there is nothing I can do or say that will ever repay them personally. It's a debt I owe to the universe that I will repay each time I help someone else, and I intend to repay that debt for the rest of my life
And say what you want about rednecks, but they rock in my opinion!! Community still exists, and they get it. I don't care what someone's political beliefs are--you either get community or you don't. They get it loud and clear.
I am overflowing with gratitude.
carey
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
lazy men and the art of frustration
I've heard that dishes can make or break a communal living situation, and I'd have to agree with this assessment. I've lived on occasion with other people, and when it goes sour, it seems that dishes or generally cleaning up after one's self are right there in the forefront.
I was last in the kitchen four days ago, when I did a heaping pile of dishes, canned 6 quarts of tomatoes, cleaned up all the canning mess and dishes, and scrubbed clean a dozen canning jars from the last moldy box in the basement. Since that time, I've been focused on working outside, putting in a full day of hard physical labor, trying to get yet another giant ignored pile transformed into what it was supposed to be. This doesn't leave a lot of time and energy to come inside and be the domestic servant that magically outputs good food and clean dishes.
Every dish in our house is dirty: every bowl, plate, glass, cup, and eating utensil. But no one washes the dishes. It is extremely frustrating. I know that not all men are lazy, but I am begging for examples to the contrary. I don't know what it is about having a vagina that makes one the most appropriate candidate for dish doing.
When discussing the lazy men phenomena with my daughter a few weeks ago, I told my daughter that I hoped she did not end up marrying a lazy man. She shook her head and said adamantly, "I'm marrying a woman!!" If I ever end up having another partner or roommate after the current pair move out, I hope they understand how community works. I hope they get the idea about giving and receiving. I hope they can clean up after themselves.
Gratitude is the highest vibration. I'm looking forward to living on my own, and believe me, I will be full of gratitude at that time. I'll miss the company, but not the upkeep lazy men seem to require.
carey
I was last in the kitchen four days ago, when I did a heaping pile of dishes, canned 6 quarts of tomatoes, cleaned up all the canning mess and dishes, and scrubbed clean a dozen canning jars from the last moldy box in the basement. Since that time, I've been focused on working outside, putting in a full day of hard physical labor, trying to get yet another giant ignored pile transformed into what it was supposed to be. This doesn't leave a lot of time and energy to come inside and be the domestic servant that magically outputs good food and clean dishes.
Every dish in our house is dirty: every bowl, plate, glass, cup, and eating utensil. But no one washes the dishes. It is extremely frustrating. I know that not all men are lazy, but I am begging for examples to the contrary. I don't know what it is about having a vagina that makes one the most appropriate candidate for dish doing.
When discussing the lazy men phenomena with my daughter a few weeks ago, I told my daughter that I hoped she did not end up marrying a lazy man. She shook her head and said adamantly, "I'm marrying a woman!!" If I ever end up having another partner or roommate after the current pair move out, I hope they understand how community works. I hope they get the idea about giving and receiving. I hope they can clean up after themselves.
Gratitude is the highest vibration. I'm looking forward to living on my own, and believe me, I will be full of gratitude at that time. I'll miss the company, but not the upkeep lazy men seem to require.
carey
Monday, August 24, 2009
all chaos, all the time
The little house is experiencing chaos at this time. Don and I (Carey) are separating and Don is moving out in the next week or two. Daughter Kaleigh and I are going to be womyn homesteaders, providing for ourselves as best we can and relying on the strength of our community to help us where and when we cannot help ourselves.
People grow apart and that's just how it is. The last 15 years of marriage have left me with good memories, but I am ready for new adventures. Don and I remain friends, and I think, in time, we will both be better off leading separate lives following our divergent passions.
I love the homestead life, blending the ideas of work and play, providing for myself/ourselves the best I can, while contributing to the abundance of my community. Today I learned to chop wood with an axe! I might have gotten a whole day's worth of wood stacked up before I pooped out, but it's a start. Already I can hit the axe in the same place more than once. And if elm wasn't the hardest wood on earth, I might have gotten two days' worth of wood stacked! I'm not stressed YET that it's almost September and that this wood is the first to get stacked for the upcoming winter. But with everybody talking about an early winter this year, I might get to panic mode shortly. At least it's happening, and I will keep making it happen.
Other projects I've been working on have been cleaning out the basement. When I started, there was a narrow path from the door to the washer. Several dozen moldy boxes later, there is room. It's amazing how much stuff we had that could have or should have been thrown away. It's gone now, but there is still mold. Little by little, I'm reclaiming the space.
The behind us neighbors moved out, and now seems like a good time to get up the privacy fence we bought earlier this year. Joe and I cleared out old fencing, grown up trees, and miles of nightshade. I'm almost ready to start digging holes for posts, at least along one side. The other side is pretty well full of wood-yet-to-be-cut.
Oh yeah, and it's tomato canning season. Six quarts so far. If we get some warm weather, I'll be processing a lot more and how.
I plan on updating this a bit more frequently in the near future. Sorry to leave y'all out of the loop, but it's been all chaos, all the time, and that's just how it goes sometimes.
carey
People grow apart and that's just how it is. The last 15 years of marriage have left me with good memories, but I am ready for new adventures. Don and I remain friends, and I think, in time, we will both be better off leading separate lives following our divergent passions.
I love the homestead life, blending the ideas of work and play, providing for myself/ourselves the best I can, while contributing to the abundance of my community. Today I learned to chop wood with an axe! I might have gotten a whole day's worth of wood stacked up before I pooped out, but it's a start. Already I can hit the axe in the same place more than once. And if elm wasn't the hardest wood on earth, I might have gotten two days' worth of wood stacked! I'm not stressed YET that it's almost September and that this wood is the first to get stacked for the upcoming winter. But with everybody talking about an early winter this year, I might get to panic mode shortly. At least it's happening, and I will keep making it happen.
Other projects I've been working on have been cleaning out the basement. When I started, there was a narrow path from the door to the washer. Several dozen moldy boxes later, there is room. It's amazing how much stuff we had that could have or should have been thrown away. It's gone now, but there is still mold. Little by little, I'm reclaiming the space.
The behind us neighbors moved out, and now seems like a good time to get up the privacy fence we bought earlier this year. Joe and I cleared out old fencing, grown up trees, and miles of nightshade. I'm almost ready to start digging holes for posts, at least along one side. The other side is pretty well full of wood-yet-to-be-cut.
Oh yeah, and it's tomato canning season. Six quarts so far. If we get some warm weather, I'll be processing a lot more and how.
I plan on updating this a bit more frequently in the near future. Sorry to leave y'all out of the loop, but it's been all chaos, all the time, and that's just how it goes sometimes.
carey
Thursday, July 9, 2009
social networks
Sunday morning, when Carey turned on the computer, it made sparking noises and flashes. She unplugged it right away. I took the power supply out and something in there is kinda charred. I didn't want to try plugging it in again. I just hope the hard drive is OK. So, we've been offline since Saturday night. It was OK. If anyone has tried to email any of us, that's why we haven't written back.
It turns out we can survive in the wilds of real life without this particular shining rectangle. But fear not, we shall be back in cyberia soon enough. I'm on a friend's laptop right now. Another friend is going to talk to his friend who might have a usable power supply for our PC. And so, real life social networks (as in, face-to-face) help facilitate our re-plugging-in-to the shining rectangle of blogging, facebook, email, myspace, other email, information, image, representation, mediation, eyestrain, wrist strain, back strain, and all that fun stuff. Don't worry, we'll be back! But--this IS an example of tribal economics--people providing services to one another, with it all going around in circles of reciprocity, no serious accounting, just giving, sharing.
AND with the new computer possibilities, I gotta figure out my permaculture talk for this Saturday morning, and maybe come up with some kinda handouts to have the printer crank out. The fun never stops. Though I do love talking about permaculture!
now listening: Sacred Dub Podcast Transmission 055
It turns out we can survive in the wilds of real life without this particular shining rectangle. But fear not, we shall be back in cyberia soon enough. I'm on a friend's laptop right now. Another friend is going to talk to his friend who might have a usable power supply for our PC. And so, real life social networks (as in, face-to-face) help facilitate our re-plugging-in-to the shining rectangle of blogging, facebook, email, myspace, other email, information, image, representation, mediation, eyestrain, wrist strain, back strain, and all that fun stuff. Don't worry, we'll be back! But--this IS an example of tribal economics--people providing services to one another, with it all going around in circles of reciprocity, no serious accounting, just giving, sharing.
AND with the new computer possibilities, I gotta figure out my permaculture talk for this Saturday morning, and maybe come up with some kinda handouts to have the printer crank out. The fun never stops. Though I do love talking about permaculture!
now listening: Sacred Dub Podcast Transmission 055
Saturday, July 4, 2009
the day of loudness
The rain has finally ended, and revelers all over Springfield's east side have begun shooting off their loud makers. Finally. We're used to hearing loud popping noises on a regular basis at least from the beginning of June, usually going well through the middle of July. This year, it's been only the past few days we've heard the works. Now, everyone who drove to Missouri and got their fireworks (or got them from Dupage County), is setting them off. And it's loud! And constant!
The rain was welcome, with a warm and dryish spell, and I just spent many hours this last two weeks in the yard. The rain also conveniently prevented us from biking downtown (no buses today), and attending an all-day festival with only $4. I really enjoyed this dreary rainy chill day, with hardly any traffic or noise other than the rain falling....until now.
It's not even dark yet, and the war zone atmosphere has begun. Normally I don't like a lot of noise, but I really enjoy the 4th, probably because of all the people who enjoy celebrating their 4th by shooting off illegal fireworks. I also enjoy the smell of bbq. Later we're making popcorn. Right now, Kaleigh is making a mud cake by the waning light of the misty day, and the intermittent light of fireflies.
Last night we saw a [insert mike myers' voice] laser light show in downtown Springfield with the cousins, and a serendipitous run-in with the Williamsons. A fun time was had by all.
carey
The rain was welcome, with a warm and dryish spell, and I just spent many hours this last two weeks in the yard. The rain also conveniently prevented us from biking downtown (no buses today), and attending an all-day festival with only $4. I really enjoyed this dreary rainy chill day, with hardly any traffic or noise other than the rain falling....until now.
It's not even dark yet, and the war zone atmosphere has begun. Normally I don't like a lot of noise, but I really enjoy the 4th, probably because of all the people who enjoy celebrating their 4th by shooting off illegal fireworks. I also enjoy the smell of bbq. Later we're making popcorn. Right now, Kaleigh is making a mud cake by the waning light of the misty day, and the intermittent light of fireflies.
Last night we saw a [insert mike myers' voice] laser light show in downtown Springfield with the cousins, and a serendipitous run-in with the Williamsons. A fun time was had by all.
carey
Thursday, July 2, 2009
pictures
All kinds of pictures, at last. The first two are of the woodshed, which also functions as a tool shed shelter. The tool shed we bought is so flimsy, it doesn't hold up to the least bit of wind. 
Amazingly, it's still in one piece. Now it's firmly ensconced in the woodshed, bolted down and everything. There's still plenty of room for wood and a walkway beside.Below, hopefully in the order that I'm naming them, are pictures of flowers: blue chicory, white buckwheat, orange daylily, and pink and purple rose of Sharon.
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