Category Archives: Management

About doing and coordinating

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Encouraging Word

I got the nicest complement today from a friend who came for lunch.

You’re doing a lot of things, and doing them well.

I usually hear just the first part.  And so I blew it off, maybe too quickly, rather than reveling in it for a moment.

“You say that standing in the explosion of my living room.”

“I see clothes, food, tools; looks like a normal house to me.”

I felt an unspeakable gratitude, but couldn’t help adding, “Jay thinks we’re the only people who live like this.”

“He should pick up the milk this week,” she said, referring to the milk share we from one of their goats.  “Then he’ll see our place.”

~ ~ ~

But it’ll be me driving out to their place this week; Jay’s still up to his eyeballs & racing for the finish-line before his next big trip.

~ ~ ~

So, quick update, since I don’t know when I’ll write next.

Since the last time I wrote:

  • We finished the rabbit set-up
  • Had our first litter of meat bunnies a week and a half ago
  • I plucked Serena (the wool rabbit) half bald. The top half.
    • Yes, it freaked me out to see the finished rabbit.
    • No, it’s not cruel; the hair only comes when it’s ready.  This is the first time she’s she’s shed like this since I got her in March.
  • Thursday I bought a “used” flock of Chickens.  Ten 15-month-old birds, already laying.
    • Six different breeds of hen
    • They threw in a rooster
      • Natasha wants to throw him back
      • I think he’s handsome, and better behaved than other roosters I’ve known.
    • A few of them have foot-issues (I believe the seller when she says she didn’t know.  None of my other chicken people knew what I was talking about or have noticed the thing before.)
      • One of the hens was effected enough I started giving her penicillin Friday and performed surgery today: opened three different places in her (MASSIVELY) swollen foot and forced out solidified results of infection.
        • (Sorry, should I have started that one out with a TMI warning? I tried to keep it as vague as possible.)
          • Believe me, I could say more.
      • Tried to repeat the procedure on another affected bird, but his case is less-advanced, and he wasn’t as patient a patient.  Maybe one has to be in a “this can’t be any worse” state before surgery isn’t worth reacting to.

So now we officially have chickens, ducks and rabbits on our little farm.

Before it even has a name.

Before we have a composting system figured out.

This land is all tailings, like I think I’ve said before.  No particularly good soil for growing. 

But here we are with all these animals putting out useful stuff that’s mixing with their bedding and dirt et. al., so I figure if we have a way of processing all this we won’t have to buy dirt whenever we get around to starting gardening.

Yeah.
I’m not really researching that.

Just recognizing that I should eventually, and knowing that my complete apathy toward such a critical element a soil is not laziness, but full-ness.

I’m doing a lot of things.  Doing them well, may it please God, but definitely reaching my limits.

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Half-set

Over the long weekend Jay built the two frames for our two 5-hole rabbit cages.

He also put in the chimney for our wood stove in its new location.  And while in the attic space under the roof he saw the charred evidence of a house fire.  Which answers my perennial question about how/why this old house (a log cabin, though you can’t tell from the inside or out) got a new floor and sheet-rocked walls.

We set the first giant cage in place late Monday night, but it was just yesterday I finished cleaning them out and transferring the “mythic” (Odin, Freya, Athena, etc.) set from their temporary place to the raised frame.  Freya and Ropa (short for Europa) were bred a couple weeks before I bought them and are due to kindle early next week.

Ropa’s been a bit of a snit, and was heavier than Freya, so I’m pretty sure Ropa’s preggers.  Not as sure about the older one, so it will be a wait-and-see again, like it was with Serena.

Yeah.  I’ve named them all.  It’s the best way I’ve found for keeping things straight in my head.  I don’t know how many the pantheon of Greek/Norse gods would work for, but for me it keeps the generations straight without even trying.

We’re officially “real” farmers now, though, because Hera broke her back somehow and while Jay was starting the cage frames I was skinning and butchering my first rabbit.

I also separated the drakes from the hens among the ducks, assured myself we have at least six hens (including the two named ducklings, thank God), and picked a drake to try out duck meat.

I skinned it rather than trying the scald/pluck method, and have to say that seems most practical.  And I’m really not doing much with cooking fat anyway, so saving the skin just seems like more effort than it’s worth right now.

So we’ve had duck and rabbit this week, and Jay was thankful to “reset” some negitive memories of both meats.

Next animal jobs are to clean up the 5-hole that was on the ground and split up the B-set (Buck, Bunnita, Buttercup) we got in May.

Jay and I are ready to see the guinea pigs leave now. We’re looking for the simplicity of only two types of animals; and having animals that can all make it outdoors in wire-bottom cages.

It’s amazing how much more relaxed Jay is without animals in the house.

So we’ve told the kids, but aren’t moving quickly.

Oh, and we accepted four lonely tomato plants along with a collection of seed-starting stuff (for next year, maybe), so I planted them one-to-a-pot in the half-barrel planters on the edges of the yard.  It will be interesting to see if they produce anything.  They’re surviving so far.

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The Gang’s All Here

So Serena (the angora–wool– rabbit) did not have any babies this week.

And as I’ve been praying all month that she’ll have “just the right number” of kits, I’m sort-of backwards relieved.  I’ve been feeling pulled this week back to writing, so not having more fiber animals to maintain is doubtless a good thing.

In other rabbity news, we picked up the crew of Californians (2 bucks, 3 does, purportedly all bred and due mid-July) and have spent this very. wet. week trying to keep them sheltered in their temporary set up and trying to keep their food dry enough that it all gets eaten, rather than soggy and thrown out.

Side note: I cannot remember a more soggy summer ever.  I mean, I remember a persistent drizzle last summer, and the summer I was married 10 years before that, but this year it’s just been coming down *buckets.”

Twice now the press-board ramp up to the porch has become so saturated that I slipped coming down and landed with a slick of mud up my pant leg. Two hours later it was dry again and had no issues.

The ducks are nearly feathered out, and I’m pretty sure they’re full-size.  They go through a five-gallon bucket of food in two days, and still freak out whenever anyone approaches.

Jay is offended by this, but I continue to argue that there are too many to make an effective effort to tame them. I keep figuring that once we cull them down to only two drakes (according to my sloppy tally that gives at least 5 to the freezer) we’ll have a better shot at winning them over with patience and food-treats.

I have named all the new rabbits.  And I use their names when bringing them their nightly food and water.

Their previous owner made her position very clear (They’re meat-producers.  Period), but I realized I’m no good at interacting with numbers (i.e., tattooed designations). I need names.  It ties into one of my favorite quotes and says something real about me:

Names are an important key to what a society values. Anthropologists  recognize naming as ‘one of the chief methods for imposing order on   perception.’  ~David S. Slawson

With all the change in my world over the last year and a half, I am quick to grab at anything that will “impose order on perception.”

And with that in mind, I realized something else interesting about all these animals I have purchased for a concrete purpose: They’re all black & white.

In a world where nothing else seems that simple, here is what I choose to surround myself with.  It’s comforting to see clarity somewhere.

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Rabbits and Ducks

The rabbits arrived last night.

The first of the official meat stock, anyway.

They’re just under 6 weeks old and the recommendation was not to breed the buck till he’s 24 weeks. That’s maybe the end of September, gestation is roughly a month, and butchering weight isn’t reached until 12 weeks.

So we might be seeing our first meat and our first eggs at about the same time.

I bought a Californian buck and two of his sisters. Late in June I hope to get another set from another breeder to swap lines and (Lord-willing) keep everyone healthy.

They are tiny and cute. Despite the red eyes I don’t like.

I also got their half-sister who is half silver-fox.  She’s black with brown eyes.  I’ve decided she’s my special “pet.” I’ve been handling her a lot.

Each of the kids has claimed one of the Californians.  And named them.

I figured it wouldn’t hurt since they’re foundation stock and it’s not them that we plan to eat (for a very long time, anyway).

I’m still trying to put together a good place for them to live.  Which entails finding good cage wire. Closest I can find in town is chicken wire.  It might have to do.

Today someone asked me whether I plan to have them live in “a little cage their whole lives.”  The way the question was asked made me defensive and I describe alternative options (e.g. colony living), and giving the dimensions of the cages, to show they’re not exactly little. But I realized, yeah, I’m planning on (all things working right) using them as little meat factories.

I’ve said I wanted rabbits because I wanted “ethical meat.” But now I have to be a big girl and acknowledge that will mean different things to different people.

For me it means the space to stay healthy without modifying them to fit my goals.  They will never be free range (unless we figure out some brilliant way to make big-area enclosures they won’t escape from or be eaten in), and I’m okay with that.

Perhaps I should have pointed out the “attention” the animals are getting, but, then, I don’t know how my kids will be with them when they outgrow the laps that are holding them now.

As for the ducks, they’re now outdoors in their interim enclosure.  They’re beginning to get their first feathers (I’m floored at how fast this is happening; they’re barely two weeks old).

We have modifications to make to the meat/playhouse to make it duck-safe. Those changes should line up with the birds’ speed of growth, so I expect them to be ready for that about the time it’s ready for them.

About then will be the “correct” butchering time too, so depending on the number of drakes we put in our freezer we might even let them stay in the medium-spot longer.

I’m also pleased to learn that ducks are actually supposed to be more cold-hardy than chickens, so going the duck route is pseudo-sensible, not just being contrary/unique.

All that said I’m still having trouble quitting before I’m exhausted.  There is always something that needs to be done, no matter where you live, but here it seems especially true.

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Natasha’s First Story

So Natasha’s English curriculum guided her through writing a “personal story” paper, and I coached her.  She did the steps over a couple days.

Listing topics

This was actually traumatic because she knew what she wanted to write about and I still wanted her to write at least one more thing down.  She doesn’t like writing any more than I did at her age, so I’m always looking for functional reasons for her to write to get a bit more practice.

Picking one (Check.), making a list of things to mention in the story, and then deciding the order of presintation of the list. Then she was supposed to write, self-check/revise and then rewrite it.

I added the steps of telling me before she wrote her first draft because (as a storyteller, and knowing how discouraging the physical mechanics of writing can be) I wanted this oppertunity to stay wonderful.

It was wonderful. Somewhere between making the list and deciding what order the things should be presented in she realised she was preparing to write a story.  Like Mama writes stories.

And her motivation was so high it was adorable and a delight.  When she got to the writing stage she sometimes had to ask how to spell words. I’d help her sound things out (unless they were sight-words.  Then I just told her), and before the end she was sounding out her own words.  And feeling GREAT about that, too.

Every sentence was a triumph, and after each one she had to stop to read me the whole piece from the beginning.

There were so many fun things coming out of her mouth I kept tweeting them, so here’s the train in 140 characters or less:

  • So excited! I’m coaching my oldest through her first writing project. “1st draft. Just get the words down- ideally where they make sense.”
  • Me: Good use of commas. N: What are commas? (The power of good reading and writing-play.)
  • Me:The little curly things after the names. What do you think they’re for? N: They’re like *ands* only… not.
  • Thank you Daddy for taking us to that rocket launch. This is so great. N (singing): This is so fun! This is so fun! I’m writing a *story!*

After we went over her first draft she rewrote it, and this is her final product.

At 1:00 AM, January 28, we went to a rocket launch. I went with Mom, Dad, Melody, and Elisha. At 1:40 AM, the rocket launched and it made a big light on the horizon. When the rocket got into the sky it made a big BOOMing noise. Then we went home and went to bed.

The End.

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Kitchen’s together.

It only took a month, but my kitchen floor is now clear of boxes and cupboard doors so I can (tomorrow) scrub my kitchen floor for the first time.

I’m not a keep-it-clean-enough-to-eat-off-the-floor type, but in my old house I was much more relaxed about my kids eating that raisin or M&M that fell on the floor, or putting on the table that clean cup that fell out of the cupboard.

Not here.

Anything touches this God-knows-what’s-been-on-it floor and it’s tossed or washed at once.

I expect we’ll keep it up (this floor gives no illusions of cleanliness) but it’ll feel good to have things done for once.

~

In other news, Jay’s gone under the house and learned a lot about how things are plumbed. The important thing to keep in mind after his discoveries is that we shouldn’t wash clothes when it’s colder than -20 (F).  The pipes under the house stay open because the furnace is blowing hot air under there, but when it gets really cold that’s not reliably effective.

Jay says his big house project this summer will be pulling the siding off this house and adding a vapor barrier. There’s lots of insulation on this place, but it’s essentially a filter for the heat coming out, not preventative enough.

He’s also decided to insulate the shed and pour a concrete floor in to make it a combined barn/garage with heat fueled by the same tank that fuels the house.

~

A few of the ideas so far in the long-term projects:

  • Start chickens and raspberry bushes this summer (my main goal)
  • Maybe a kid goat (if our friend’s Saanen kids a doe)
  • Maybe meat rabbits
  • If we do meat rabbits, we’ll also get a few angora rabbits (for their fur) becasue the girls want to have pet rabbits too, and I’ve been getting back into handspinning.
  • If we are feeling especially adventurous we might get a few ducks/geese as well.  I think some of this will depend on how close the pond feels in the summer.

And of course all of this depends on the house selling.  We’ve had some nibbles and a few showings.  People are positive, but without an offer we’re still in limbo.

Definitely welcome your prayers in that area.

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We now have:

  • Hot water (but no bath towels)
  • A dishwasher (need automatic dishwasher detergent– have you seen the result of standard dish soap? Jay took responsibility. I was able to continue sitting.)
  • A washing machine (dryer will be ready soon– then we’ll have a remedy for the tearful loss of beloved jammies.)
  • A functioning kitchen
  • Clearance to drink the water! The tests came back nearly identical to the city water we’ve been drinking for 10 years.

To do still are a bunch of little odds and ends, and a few bigger things that will wait till later in the year:

  • Redo bathroom
    • Get rid of carpet in bathroom
    • need a sink/vanity
  • new kitchen floor
  • Range hood
  • wood stove reinstalled
    • the stovepipe and everything else about the set-up was declared unsafe, so we took the pipe down and it’s an elaborate end-table until summer.
  • I’m also looking forward to getting the little monitor in the cabin so running out for a refill on my small (in-kitchen) containers isn’t painfully cold while I fumble about with bare hands.

So so thankful the water situation has worked out. It was the biggest question in this fingers-crossed experiment, and it looks like the Lord has blessed us.

Now we continue to wait on the questions about the septic system (when the indoors work slows down a bit Jay plans to do more investigating work).

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Downsizing a Kitchen

In the next month–Lord willing– I will be moving into a new house (and by “new” I mean a 40-year-old cabin, albeit one blessed with running water; not a given in my community).

The layout is fine, but the storage options in my new kitchen are limited to two sets of cabinets: one below the sink’s counter, and one above.

We’ll probably add some more once we get the appliances in and see where they’d fit. But, even with the extras I estimate I’ll have about 1/3 the storage space I enjoy in my current kitchen.

I will have a dry cabin right outside the front door, so any non-daily stuff (pressure-canner!) and pantry storage won’t have to fit in the actual kitchen.

This post is to throw an open door to this sort of advice: What bare minimums would you keep in a stripped down kitchen?

Some of my first answers surprised me, for example, between my salad-spinner and my Kitchen Aid mixer, I’d pick the first.

You see, since going gluten-free most of my baked-goods have been one-batch experiments, hardly worth the effort of unpacking then washing. On the other hand, I’ve really enjoyed the simplicity of the spinner’s results, and food that needs rinsing is cheaper anyway, which makes it the kind I’m most likely to buy.

Fortunately (she says with a grit-tooth grin) my minimalistic living while our house was on the market this summer can inform these choices.

My off-the-top list (these are all things I have and use already. The goal is to keep handy only the constantly used):

  • Dishes to eat off of, and silverware.
  • All my mixing bowls
  • Two of every measuring cup (my ill-fated attempt to use just one of each really cramped me in the kitchen this summer) and all my spoons.
  • Two bread pans, three cookie sheets and four Silpats (non-stick silicone mats. *Perfect* for GF cookies) and silicone baking cups (did you know these will work on a cookie sheet? Means I can pass on the cupcake tins.)
  • Full pot rack (freebie, since it can just hang )
  • Vitamix blender
  • Knife block
  • Microwave and/or toaster oven (These last four will likely fill most of the available counter space– though we usually stack these last two.)

Aaand that’s about as far as I’ve broken it down.  I’m not entirely sure how to divide the food or remaining “filler” that currently finds its home in my kitchen.

Anybody with experience or insight will be heard with great eagerness.

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New House

Our offer has been accepted.

We are now waiting for the title-search to be initiated by the seller (their job) and once it comes back clean we can write a check.

We won’t be debt-free yet. We still have to sell our house for that (back on the market in February is the plan). But then it will be fully ours.

Still trying to wrap my head around that.

I am so excited it’s really. not. funny.  Feeling so vested I feel like too much is at stake. At the same time I’m trying to convince (imagined) critical voices to get off my back: Yeah, I see problems. It’s not a perfect place, but as Jay so succinctly expressed it:

This place meets our goals.

And not just the stated ones.

The articulated goal was a small place (with running water) on a chunk of land that could be debt-free with the sale of our house.

The extras:

  • A big front room (open spaces do a lot for my sense of peace). This is not a box we can’t turn around in.
  • a dedicated laundry room (I’ve been doing laundry in our garage for the last 8 years)
  • a dry cabin just outside the front door (seriously, I don’t know if I’d want someone living that close to me ) Jay and I hope to turn into a “reference library” so all our books can be accessible at once without cluttering the house with books we need less-often.
  • A huge (seriously, huge) shed behind the house so that (once we weatherproof it.  Which it needs) we can remove all the stuff in storage at my folks’ place, both to give them their garage back and to have all our own stuff accessible on our own property.
  • Lots of water.  An artesian well a stone’s throw from the house, a creekish thing and a pond or lake, depending on your definition.
    • Have I already mentioned here how I’ve always wanted ducks, as opposed to chickens? The water is cool to me for that reason. Not that I really want to deal with wintering ducks (yet), I just really like the option being an easy one.

There are a few car carcasses in the woods that we’ll have to get rid of, and, yeah, I’m a little tense to see what’s hiding under the snow on these 6 acres, but I’ve been keen on this property since the first time it hit my radar on October 16th.

And it’s not solid till it’s signed, so the rug could still get pulled from under me until that day, but I’m trying to think on the words of a friend who’s just seen the picture of the Chinese daughter she’s been waiting three years to meet.

I told her how scared I was to have my heart so set on something that isn’t settled.

“God can change your heart,” she said gently. “Your heart can be in it, and if it’s not right God can change that and heal it.”

It’s struck me lately how many precious people in my world are also waiting: for a baby to be born, for an adoption, for test results, for transfer notices; and we share the instability, trying to “bear one another’s burdens” while also “carry[ing our] own load.”

~

The offer included a 15-day deadline to closing, so at least I have an end to the question.

And I am hopeful.  And excited.

It’s no small thing to imagine I have a space, not only to hide from showings in (what a blessing it will be not to live in the house we’re trying to sell as “pristine”) but also to have a genuine “starter” home that we will live in (as or if) we build another “forever” home.

I am encouraged to think this verse applies to us:

Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin. (Zechariah 4:10)

And we pray our work will bring him glory.

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The Amalgamation of Childhood

Listening to my children play is like picking apart the seeds of dreams.

Elisha and Melody have been play slave-escape stories again tonight, and Elisha restarted a scenario, carefully setting it up:

“The White Dragon will protect us from the Red Dragon–Kill it! And then help us escape to Freedom.  Carry us. But not in its jaws, on its back.”

Care to see the sources?

I love the way my kids produce stories.