Giving Up the Blog Ghost

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Yes, I am thinking about hanging up the blog rake in the barn, at least for the summer. But first an update on the news at Rat Town.
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Slim's orphan calf, Bully Boy, is starting to look like a healthy calf of his age. Above is a photo taken a week ago. Not quite spunky but his eyes were starting to fill out again as he slowly rehydrated and recovered from malnutrition.

Just last night, Slim asked if he was going to have a heck of a time getting that calf away from me. I said "Well, Slim, I've got him halter broke, saddle broke and even starting dressage but, you know what?" "I can't imagine ... what?" "Well, it's obvious now that Bully Boy just isn't going to make it as my champion saddle bull. Sigh." "Now why you saying that?" "Slim, he's just not sprouting handlebars, know what I mean?" "I sure am sorry to hear that, yeah, it happens. I'll come take him home him then." "I knew you'd understand."
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Here is Bully Boy this morning after his morning bottle feeding which has become a ritual for the entire population of Rat Town. The cats now recognize this as their big outing of the day as soon as they see me fill the milk bottle and put on my long-sleeved shirt and rubber boots. They are already waiting impatiently at the rear door. The dogs are waiting just outside the door, knowing that there is a slight chance for a slurp from this super-sized baby bottle plus a chance to cavort legally with the calf. Somewhere in the middle of all this celebration, someone WILL step on one of my in-grown toenails and this seems to be an expected part of the troupe's merriment. And this was the first morning that the calf kicked up his heels and responded to the dog play. It told me that we had succeeded in bringing him back fully, such an incredibly warm feeling of accomplishment.
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Other news in brief: Mark is looking a bit better after that round of 'whatever that was' although still dreadfully fatigued. Slim is leaving the canyon this weekend with the last of his cattle and won't be back until early winter (serious bummer). The gas company which will be instrumental in our moving Rat Town up top was all 'hurry up and wait' which means that the monsoons may hit before their construction time schedule and the move may have to wait until next year. Which means that I will not have my creative life back until then (this aspect of treading water is getting REAL old). Sooo, all things considered, I am feeling a little uninspired at the moment. Which brings about my decision to stop making new blog entries for a while. Here are the other reasons:

With the exception of a very few family members and some kindly and encouraging souls I have met along the way, it doesn't appear that anyone has that much interest in reading about this particular subject, at least as I am capable of presenting it. That is despite an article in WSJ which talked about the looming energy crisis spawning a trend to go rural and self-sufficient. In other words, shit ... I couldn't make lemonade even after a tornado hit a lemon grove. Maybe I sound a little discouraged? You bet, especially after hearing friends talk about their million hits a month. According to my mother, I still wasn't talking much by age four. The kindly doctor told her that I was fine but just didn't have anything I felt was worth saying. I think I am going to head back to that philosophy for a while rather than talk largely to myself. I have a lot of planning and design work that I have been putting off in shameless and delinquent ways so it will feel great to get some of it done now.

With the doubling of fuel costs, the practical side of me says that I don't need to be burning daytime generator in order to keep up with both the blog AND my e-mails. It's starting to cost some serious money and wear on the generator to keep that pleasure up so it's time to reconsider the brutal economics of it.

Since a lot of my favorite blog friends have decided to put their own blogs on hold for the summer, it is as good a time as any for me to give it a try, too. I'm not saying that this is going to work any better than trying to ignore those big, gorgeous chocolate bars in the pantry but I am going to try any way. In the meantime, you are invited to read through the archives. Just start at the beginning since this IS a journal of our challenges and joys to date. If you have any questions, just ask. It was always my primary intent to encourage others (at least genuinely NICE others) to follow their dreams of settling into the countryside. It's a great life if you don't bring any city rudeness with you.
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The Parting Shot (humorous images sent in by Ken)
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Don't ever give up on pursuing the greener grass on the other side of the fence even though it can present some unexpected technical problems.
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Yep, this is what we experienced as we finally escaped a 15 year exile in Northern Ill-annoys to our new greener pasture. I like to think of this as God's way of saying "Never look back on that place and such people with any regret" and it has surely worked. If you are not one of the "What have you done for ME, ME, ME in the last five minutes" sort of folks, I hope you find your own greener pasture soon.
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Dang Fool - part 1

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Pre-Ramble: Rat life is pretty darned good at the moment. The plumbing is holding up (both in and out), the propane man made it in last week just before the roads went bad. Saw the first traffic in a week when Hondo stopped by (he deserves a post to himself someday soon). He had been out checking his well run and his truck looked more mud brown than anything.

Later, I glanced out the window yesterday and saw what first looked like a small Willys-type Jeep. The closer it got, the stranger it looked. Then we saw a collection of dogs and a black cowboy hat inside of it. It was Slim, arriving like the Cavalry with a case of beer in the back end. With neighbors like that, could you want for better? He had been running and repairing the fence lines in preparation for his next load of cattle to arrive and thought to make the extra five miles to our place in the process. He stayed for several hours of socializing before heading back. I just wish that he had given me some warning; I could have thawed out a great early supper. I suspect he figures that goods meals only occur well after dark around here and he wasn't about to stay out that late in an open cabbed vehicle and drive home freezing and half in the bag over roads he was so glad he didn't abuse his truck on. We couldn't fault him on that either.

So why didn't I get photos of our visitors? Mark and I talked about that after they all left. It obviously comes from my own dislike of having my photo taken. I just presume that everyone else feels the same way. I will have to force myself to ask them for the privilege some time and see how they feel about it. They are certainly a very important part of our life out here.
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Yesterday's moon over the Rat

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On to today's post: "Dang fool". This is the first part of a random and happenstance series on what we left behind. This is an important part of the 'leave it all behind' process that we all have to deal with in this circumstance.

Now read this quote from an early sixties program:

Jed Clampett: Pearl, what d'ya think? Think I oughta move?
Cousin Pearl: Jed, how can ya even ask? Look around ya. Yer eight miles from yer nearest neighbor. Yor overrun with skunks, possums, coyotes, bobcats. Ya use kerosene lamps fer light and ya cook on a wood stove summer and winter. Yer drinkin' homemade moonshine and washin' with homemade lye soap. Yor bathroom is fifty feet from the house and you ask "should I move?"
Jed: I reckon yor right. A man'd be a dang fool to leave all this!

"The Beverly Hillbillies" c. early 1960s

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I was very young when I heard those lines but something about them stayed with me forever after. It was a story about a hillbilly who (unlike us) had mineral rights and subsequent sudden wealth. While Mark and I never had great wealth from being in the right place at the right time, we had persevered and developed a comfortable home while still accruing some savings. What's enjoyably ironic is that we are now pursuing a reverse Jed Clampett scenario. For a decade and a half previously, we had pursued a 'no debt' objective and now it was paying off. My ever-ending rehab of the past few houses had yielded gains and we were on our way ... downwards, in the eyes of many. It was a good thing that we never followed the bleating crowds or we never would have made it. We don't live as primitively as Jed by a long shot but many would think so. The standard perception is that we had something to lose and did so. Did we really? I mean really? Prior to this, we dealt with long commutes, theft and vandalism from scum (those poor little victims of society), municipal restrictions and enforcement, neighbors and acquaintances who most often fell short of returning our assistance and generosity and HIGH taxes to support this 'privilege'.

So, how willing are you to give up your conveniences for a greater degree of autonomy and freedom? Can you still free your hand from the philosophical monkey trap by letting go of your fist-full of immediate comforts? It's harder than you might think. Unless you earned your money the old-fashioned way - by inheriting it from dear mumsy and dadda, you have to plan a long way ahead and remain dedicated to your goal. The prime outlands may be under siege from trust fund slugs but we everyday folks can still get our licks in if we plan ahead with determined and genuine intent. What are you waiting for?

So here begins the 'dang fool' series. If your sitting in relative comfort on the grid, I don't want to hear any accusations of whining; such numb-nutted thought-free sound bites will only anger me immensely. If you are interested in pursuing a similar goal, this series will benefit you in understanding these pressures and dilemmas.
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Here is the place we left behind. It is a rambling 3 level 120+ year old farmhouse which we spent 12 years restoring. It was fun, challenging and an awesome place to call home. It was our pinnacle of residential comfort and achievement.
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Tah-dah!!! The Rat!

Take two independent people going from over 3,000 square feet of living space plus a barn with over 4600 square feet of room for work shops, vehicle toys and 'stuff' and jam them into a 910 square foot rat trailer 24/7 for two years. Do the math; you'd both better enjoy each other's company in every way before attempting this. And you both better be able to see and appreciate the benefits from doing so. Still worth it? Put yourself in our shoes and decide.
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FALL - it certainly fell

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Rather than the usual homestead tales, this is just going to be a hodge-podge news update for friends and family. If you have stopped by a few times in the past, you're already considered friends so don't wander away unless you want to!
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The above photo was taken at 5:30PM this afternoon, looking West from the Rat. As Virgil said, the sun has changed places with the moon in their trails across the sky and so it is the sun which skips along the mesa on our south, dipping early into hiding now. The shadows and the absence of direct sunlight bring the quick drop in temperatures. Standing on the Rat's front porch at this hour, you can feel the chill beginning to ride up your back. From now until Spring, it will be below freezing before 11:00PM. Our outdoor working times will become shorter and more urgent and disciplined now.

We have already had a night with a low of 10 degrees. By this latest unintentional experiment, we have now established that the water facilities within an addition without doors yet WILL freeze at that temperature. Sometimes we need such pressing conditions to shift into high gear since we are still enjoying a certain degree of intentional irresponsibility.

The 'build your own door from scratch' project is proceeding nicely. We couldn't buy 'off the rack' doors because of the low wall heights of the addition and we had put off the project since the demise of the big Kawasaki generator which had mysteriously come up lame with a stripped spark plug hole after it had been pressed into general service when the Honda generator died.

The solution to my table saw's big amp needs was a cable which links the output of TWO Honda's running simultaneously. Yes, we got fed up and bought a second Honda EU3000. Mark cabled them together and the big saw fired up nicely without stalling out either Honda. I spent the next few hours cutting door pieces which would overlap to make good solid door frames when assembled. Two by four frames with one inch foam insulation, 7/16ths sheathing on both faces, these buggers are going to be SOLID!
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In this photo from the porch looking East, you can see the rising moon above the mesas if you look carefully. If you have been following along for a while, you can also see that a portion of fence has disappeared, along with the chico and sage beyond it. Mark cleaned out this whole area over to Quig's new circular driveway to accommodate a couple of new buildings that we just ordered! Yesh! Yesh! Yesh! NEW buildings on the way! Can you tell that I am, ohhh, just a little excited? They probably won't arrive until New Years given the builder's backlog but the vistas of long suppressed imagination are suddenly opening up once more. The ability to unload the rest of the moving trailer looms, the prospect of having my various work shops re-established, too. I am just short of delirious with the possibilities and that has been a feeling long absent for me. I am one of those people who need those feelings, needs a place of their own to work, repair and create. It is so close now.

Of very recent news: I have perpetually warned Mark not to use his hand as a mallet. It is such a tempting thing to do rather take five minutes to find the proper tool. No ... he's just fine. It was I who broke my own rule and might have broken my hand in the process. Oh, the shame of it all. And it has slowed down our projects accordingly. As I watched Mark from the sidelines today, he would still bash the occasional piece into place with the heel of his hand and I would grimace painfully but empathetically. He is still a very large cat when it comes to subtle torment, methinks.
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Privy Counsel: On Restoration of the Throne

REALITY WARNING: More serious potty talk to follow

The previous installment left off with Mark in a state of misery and it was time to do something about it.

I'm not sure where this particular inspiration came from; perhaps something as simple as noticing the forlorn bathroom fixtures among the old cast iron stoves and sundries in the barn. We had since removed the two original bathrooms and replaced their horrendously rotted floors so the old fixtures were consigned to the junk stash. Even though we were pretty much decided on not going through the expense of installing a septic system, the porcelain pots seemed too good to just throw away. And now they were saying something encouraging to me.

"Mark, I know this might sound like a strange idea but how about if we drag out one of the thrones and set it up at the rear of the Rat, maybe line the bowl with several sheets of newspaper and ... " He cut me off as he caught the idea with both hands and ran with it. It was as close as I had seen him to exuberant in months (not that exuberance was ever his strong suit, mind you). I will never forget his almost Monty Python response either, accompanied by eyes wide in a madman's unseen joy; "Oh! Oh! My buttocks are already puckering in anticipation!!" I knew we had a winner here.

It wasn't half an hour later that the throne had been cleaned and set up for business. It wasn't five minutes later that he had installed himself as King Mark, first reigning monarch of the Alfresco Privy of the Rat. And there was much joy in the land among the serfs as the new ruler lost much of his stopped up testiness.

Now I'm not saying that this (photo one) would be considered much of an improvement to the average suburbanite but all things are truly relative. I sent that photo to friend Jim in upstate New York and his response was "Hey ... LOVE what you've done with the place!" Granted but sitting on an icy toilet seat is still hands above squatting and teetering above a hole in the ground. We even set up the bowl with newspapers for the next sitter (Cat, take note of that!) so that someone could take the 20 yard green apple two-step dash and not miss the target. The gift-wrapped poop de jour was then ceremoniously deposited in the burn barrel. Uptown, totally uptown!

As you can see from photo 2, privacy did remain an issue to some degree. Those are Slim's cows come to visit and mooch hay off the back of the moving trailer, hay which I thought had been placed out of their reach. And cows are nosey, curious critters so they were inclined to keep close company with you if the outing was timed poorly. Mark tried to sneak a photo of yours truly 'sitting' among the herd but the camera would not set itself up (funny how those things happen). And planes still flew overhead and trucks still rumbled by at the most inopportune times.

The biggest drawback was still use after dark. Much of the pensive joy that comes with sitting quietly alone had returned to us now but occasionally the reverie would be doused by sudden crashings and thrashings from the trees and sage at the mesa's base. There really is something about being caught with your pants down that makes you feel especially vulnerable. Often times, the noises would fade away but I remember one night when the noise was particularly loud ... and close! I switched on the flashlight and scanned the bushes. The noise stopped as not one but two pairs of large yellow eyes flared back at me. As Slim would attest in a slightly more colorful way, this sort of situation can make for a fine natural laxative. Whatever the glowing eyeballs were attached to and I indulged in a Mexican stand-off for several more minutes and then I switched off the flashlight. WHADDA-MY, NUTS? - but I prefer it over no action at all and had already calculated that I 'might' be able to make it back to the Rat's front door and break some Guinness record for the fastest one-man, one-legged hopping race ever in the process. Either that or qualify for a Darwin Award. Hey, any legacy is better than nothing.

But fate was unusually kind that night and the mystery critters eventually wandered off. Oh sure, you can sit in your cozy arm chair now and probably connect some dots but not so fast ....

To be continued

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Humor of the Day (from Rick the Welder)

A farmer got in his pick-up, drove to a neighboring farm and knocked at the farmhouse door. A young boy about 10 years old came to the door.

"Is your dad home?" the farmer asked.

"No, sir, he ain't." the boy replied "He went into town."

"Well, is your ma home?" said the farmer.

"No, sir, she ain't here neither ... she went into town with Pa."

"How about your brother, Howard, is he here?"

"He went with Ma and Pa."

The farmer stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other and mumbling to himself a little.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" the boy asked politely "I know where all the tools are if you need to borrow one. Or, maybe I could take a message for Pa?"

"Well" said the farmer uncomfortably, "I really wanted to talk to your dad ... it's about your brother Howard getting my daughter Pearly Mae pregnant."

The boy considered that for a moment and then said "Hmmm, best you talk to Pa about that ..." and then offered "But, if it helps you any, I know that Pa charges $50 for the bull and $25 for the boar ... but I really don't know how much he gets for Howard."

Privy Counsel: On Devo Dumping

REALITY WARNING: serious potty talk to follow


As I noted back in the early accounts of our arrival here, there are some very basic human needs which we tend to take for granted. Having a place 'to go' is definitely one of them. While it is easy enough to rough it in that regard for a week or two on a camping trip, it can become a source of complete dread and misery as the months slip by and the claws of winter winds rasp across your backside. The second photo shows our very first privy facilities.

When we bought the ranch, there was no existing shelter other than the barn. The only visible vestige of a former dwelling was the orange/brown skin of another old rat trailer which had burned up and then been dragged across the road and left to rot like a rusty tin can in a farmer's dump (photo 1). This meant that we would have to go 'native critter' as far as nature calls. We started to envy the kitty boys in a hurry with their warm and clean indoor litter box.

We had barely arrived before the frosts hardened the ground and the task of excavating holes with the broken hoe became harder and then almost impossible. Somewhere in there came the dark of night desperation visits, possibly aggravated by living out of a cooler full of melted ice water and maybe a little situation anxiety. It wasn't a pleasant time for either of us. Luckily, I had yet to blow out my knee but the knee strain was beginning to take its toll on both of us within a month's time. Darkness accented the misery as you scratched around with the hoe by the feeble, skewed beam of a flashlight resting in the sage stubble. The chico brush would spike your buttocks viciously if you had misjudged your digging or foot placement in haste. I suppose it took our minds off what creatures were lurking out there in the dead of night with us and I care not that the cows eat chico with reasonable benefit; I would eradicate that miserable plant if I had my way. Spike my butt even once and I WILL remember, forever.

For me, the biggest vexation was to settle down to business and find that, nearly without fail, a small-engine plane would appear from behind the mesa and laboriously grind its way over my head (and associated exposed parts) at embarrassingly low altitudes. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn that someone had been selling tickets to these events.

Perhaps by being born a setter instead of a pointer, I had fared better than Mark in this long run of misery. He soon found it beyond any sane acceptability to compress his 6.5 foot frame into a low squat and maintain that pose on quaking knees for as long as necessary. It wasn't long before he had developed a case of ... uhm ... serious retention. That's certainly not good over the long haul. It got to the point where he would literally save his efforts for the next town run and a chance to use a sit down/take a load off, real porcelain throne. I began to quietly worry about his new state of affairs in this respect. Something had to be done, anything would be an improvement.

To be continued