All of my life I have devoured books. As a child in school, when we were handed out the order forms for books I would circle every one, unable to narrow down to a modest number. As the books were cheap, my mother allowed me to buy as many as I wanted. I was always the only one in class who ordered the most books, and I would go home and quickly read them all. I've always loved to read.
A trip to a bookstore roughly cost me about sixty bucks, give or take, and I spent my early adulthood cognizant of this fact, and completely okay with it. I have always needed a large stack of unread books at my disposal, something to gaze upon and know that there were good things to come once I curled up with them.
Then came the Kindle. It took me all of about five minutes to convert from a "real" book to a digital edition. Having lived in the sticks for the majority of my life, the ability to get a book on demand, without driving an hour to a bookstore, was priceless. And suddenly, I became a bit out of control. With the simple click of a button I could purchase a book, and for the first few Kindle years, that was okay because the prices of Kindle editions were reasonable. Then that stopped.
And suddenly I was getting HUGE bills, as I paid upwards of $11.99 for a book. A book that required absolutely no costs to create (as in paper, distribution channels, etc.) but was just thrown on a web site. Hey, as an author I don't want to take anything away from the authors of the books I read, but a little common sense needs to prevail here. There is NO COMMON SENSE to charge the same for a digital edition of a book as a printed one. Absolutely none. While I am happy to pay for the services of the author having actually written the book, I see no reason to cover the cost of things that aren't actually happening (like paper being used, etc.) So I went on a bit of a boycott, and decided that I was no longer going to pay that much for books. It has been hard. But I think I have developed a system.
First of all, there are authors out there that I follow that I will pay the souped up price because I want to read their books. But I am no longer seeking out any new authors who are being published in the traditional manner, because I no longer want to pay those completely trumped up prices. So I can no longer read book reviews on mainstream content because I don't want to be tempted, and if you mention New York Time's Best Seller list, then count me out. I believe that the new paradigm of publishing is closer than it's ever been before -- and I am willing to help it along with my participation.
Self-published authors (and even traditional authors who have turned to self-publishing) are aware that finding readers for their books is difficult. So many have turned to the strategy of providing one of their books for free, which is "advertised" by various channels who send out emails or have websites pointing readers to the free books. Now why would an author give their book away for free? Why, to get readers! Now, you can't be a lazy author if you use this strategy, because ultimately you want a reader to read your free book then fall in love with your writing style and be more than happy to pay for your other books. But you need other books! While it is true that I have slogged through a lot of poorly written crapola in this free way of reading, I have absolutely come upon some gems and was more than happy to buy their other books. It's not as easy as buying books straight from Amazon after reading a review about it, because you have to take a chance and read an author you have never heard of before and has no one talking about them. But through websites like www.goodreads.com, you can find out from other readers what they think, as well as www.amazon.com, though for the majority of these freebies, they don't have that many reviews yet.
It's about creating a network. Through goodreads, I follow other readers whose recommendations and reviews I agree with, and then can find other books that I also enjoy. And I too, have followers, who will read a book based on my recs as well. The key to finding reading material via reviews is knowing who is a true reviewer and who is just putting up glowing reviews because they are friends and family of the author, etc. And it is through time, like any relationship, that you grow to know who you can trust.
In a way, it is almost like a job, taking on books out of the ether based on the fact that they are free, and hoping to find a gem. I am going to have to learn to STOP reading when I discover they are poorly written and overall bad. Right now, I just can't do that. As a natural born optimist, I always believe that it just has to get better! But ... in truth, that's rarely the case. Bad is bad!
In the end, I just want to read good books. And publish them too!
Monday, August 20, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
A saucy post!
I had a bunch of tomatoes from my CSA and realized that I needed to make sauce. There was nothing better throughout the past year to pull out a frozen package of my "garden sauce," and that has fueled my desire to make sure I have plenty on hand for the upcoming long months of no garden fresh anything. But 12 tomatoes do not really make a whole lot of sauce, so I jumped in my trusty Jeep and headed to the local farm, praying that they would have loads of heirloom tomatoes that I could turn into sauce. They did!
Excellent. As I drove home, with the sun blazing down on me, I realized that I never did follow through with the pact I made myself to wear a hat while driving topless in the jeep. Or in the garden. Or anywhere, for that matter. My poor face has been tanned pretty much since March, when I was in Florida, and while the deep tan comes and goes, the sunburns have popped up from time to time, the last being quite a good one that I received while sailing. Oh, I put on a hat, eventually, but that was ripped off my head by the whipping wind of Buzzard's Bay, and alas, I was once again, hatless. Which I obviously prefer.
As I drove, (yes, with the sun blazing down on me!) it occurred to me how ridiculously excited I was about creating a big batch of sauce! For the first time ever, the garlic, peppers and onions will come from my garden, and while I planted a ton of tomato plants myself, that damned horn worm bested me yet again. I really was hoping to make my very own garden sauce, but then again, I thought, as I drove and screamed to the song on my iPod, if I had had my own tomatoes I wouldn't have had the chance to drive to the farm and then chat with the women who work there, who of course asked why I was purchasing a multitude of tomatoes. They both got wistful looks on their face when I said I was making sauce, and both said they didn't really have anyone to make sauce for. I said, but what about yourselves? And they kind of shrugged and said, well, I suppose ... but I get it. If I lived alone, I wouldn't make sauce. I wouldn't really care about cooking, I would just chop up a few tomatoes and eat those for dinner. But they've had their time for sauce making, they both chimed in on their favorite recipes and experiences. This is my sauce making time, and I am okay with it. No, that's not right, I am deliriously happy about making sauce! And this is the way it goes, as a hormonal, peri-menopausal woman.
Who, while screaming out loud to the music, with the sun blazing upon her, realized she was going to be very screwed with all of the sun exposure. And that just made me laugh, because why the hell does everything that feels right and good have to be bad for you? Screw it, I say, to which of course I laughed again, because that has pretty much been my mentality for most of my life.
All of these meandering saucy thoughts brought me back to the chickens. I have been letting them free range for the past few weeks, and of course, they quite enjoy it. But when we leave, I feel compelled to put them back into their run, and for the past two days, Maddie, Charlie and I have put on quite a show trying to wrangle them up, with someone yelling and chasing them and the other two trying to act as blockers. Kind of crazy, but it makes me wonder, why am I bothering? When I am home, it's not as though I keep an eye on them. They are out there, fending for themselves, and really, what could I do if something happened? Probably not much. And why do I worry about something happening? Because I did all of that reading because I was so sure I didn't have the capability to raise chickens on my own, and in the end, I realize, of course I can! They are birds with very little brain capacity, and I happened upon a blog where a woman said just that. Alas, a blogger who gets that the entire world isn't against letting their chickens run free! (Quite a few people let fear run their lives, and I do realize this, but I also see how easy it is to vibe into that. You should have seen us building their run! I was determined to keep lions and tigers and bears out, at any cost!) And now, they run free! They wandered out to the side of the road the other day and I went out and chased them back. And of course, they went right back, and I thought, well, I'm not going to fence the entire yard! It's a bit of letting your chickens live their own lives, I suppose, but what I really want to believe is that they are going to be fine. I heard a sound in the lower field the other morning, and saw a few turkeys, and I thought, okay, there are always turkeys in the lower field, as well as predators of turkeys, and yet, there are still turkeys! Is it completely naive to believe that I live in a charmed piece of land where little animals can survive? I have a cat who has been with us well over ten years, and he spends most nights outside. In other words, I worry and try to turn it into of course there is no reason to worry~!
And then I say, screw it, they will be fine! And if they're not, they're not.
In truth, it's like not wearing a hat. I'm going to find out sooner than later what that's going to cost me! But screw the piper, he's not getting into my pockets! Those chickens are gleeful when they run outside, they flap around and sing in their little chicken voices, and a life led in happiness has to beat a lifetime of safety in an enclosure.
In fact, I am sure of that.
Excellent. As I drove home, with the sun blazing down on me, I realized that I never did follow through with the pact I made myself to wear a hat while driving topless in the jeep. Or in the garden. Or anywhere, for that matter. My poor face has been tanned pretty much since March, when I was in Florida, and while the deep tan comes and goes, the sunburns have popped up from time to time, the last being quite a good one that I received while sailing. Oh, I put on a hat, eventually, but that was ripped off my head by the whipping wind of Buzzard's Bay, and alas, I was once again, hatless. Which I obviously prefer.
As I drove, (yes, with the sun blazing down on me!) it occurred to me how ridiculously excited I was about creating a big batch of sauce! For the first time ever, the garlic, peppers and onions will come from my garden, and while I planted a ton of tomato plants myself, that damned horn worm bested me yet again. I really was hoping to make my very own garden sauce, but then again, I thought, as I drove and screamed to the song on my iPod, if I had had my own tomatoes I wouldn't have had the chance to drive to the farm and then chat with the women who work there, who of course asked why I was purchasing a multitude of tomatoes. They both got wistful looks on their face when I said I was making sauce, and both said they didn't really have anyone to make sauce for. I said, but what about yourselves? And they kind of shrugged and said, well, I suppose ... but I get it. If I lived alone, I wouldn't make sauce. I wouldn't really care about cooking, I would just chop up a few tomatoes and eat those for dinner. But they've had their time for sauce making, they both chimed in on their favorite recipes and experiences. This is my sauce making time, and I am okay with it. No, that's not right, I am deliriously happy about making sauce! And this is the way it goes, as a hormonal, peri-menopausal woman.
Who, while screaming out loud to the music, with the sun blazing upon her, realized she was going to be very screwed with all of the sun exposure. And that just made me laugh, because why the hell does everything that feels right and good have to be bad for you? Screw it, I say, to which of course I laughed again, because that has pretty much been my mentality for most of my life.
All of these meandering saucy thoughts brought me back to the chickens. I have been letting them free range for the past few weeks, and of course, they quite enjoy it. But when we leave, I feel compelled to put them back into their run, and for the past two days, Maddie, Charlie and I have put on quite a show trying to wrangle them up, with someone yelling and chasing them and the other two trying to act as blockers. Kind of crazy, but it makes me wonder, why am I bothering? When I am home, it's not as though I keep an eye on them. They are out there, fending for themselves, and really, what could I do if something happened? Probably not much. And why do I worry about something happening? Because I did all of that reading because I was so sure I didn't have the capability to raise chickens on my own, and in the end, I realize, of course I can! They are birds with very little brain capacity, and I happened upon a blog where a woman said just that. Alas, a blogger who gets that the entire world isn't against letting their chickens run free! (Quite a few people let fear run their lives, and I do realize this, but I also see how easy it is to vibe into that. You should have seen us building their run! I was determined to keep lions and tigers and bears out, at any cost!) And now, they run free! They wandered out to the side of the road the other day and I went out and chased them back. And of course, they went right back, and I thought, well, I'm not going to fence the entire yard! It's a bit of letting your chickens live their own lives, I suppose, but what I really want to believe is that they are going to be fine. I heard a sound in the lower field the other morning, and saw a few turkeys, and I thought, okay, there are always turkeys in the lower field, as well as predators of turkeys, and yet, there are still turkeys! Is it completely naive to believe that I live in a charmed piece of land where little animals can survive? I have a cat who has been with us well over ten years, and he spends most nights outside. In other words, I worry and try to turn it into of course there is no reason to worry~!
And then I say, screw it, they will be fine! And if they're not, they're not.
In truth, it's like not wearing a hat. I'm going to find out sooner than later what that's going to cost me! But screw the piper, he's not getting into my pockets! Those chickens are gleeful when they run outside, they flap around and sing in their little chicken voices, and a life led in happiness has to beat a lifetime of safety in an enclosure.
In fact, I am sure of that.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Mid-summer reflections
I just read my last post where I was musing whether or not my "pains" would go away if I stopped weeding. That actually worked. But the trade off is a damned jungle of a garden -- outta control with weeds -- and I guess I have to buck up or lose everything!
We have been staying at the cottage for the last month or so, and it has been wonderful. Despite the fact that I had to return here every day to deal with dogs and chickens and gardens, it was worth it every night I sat on the porch or dock and watched the sun set and then listened to the lapping of the water as the community settled itself to sleep and eventually complete silence ensued, with only the occasional cry of a loon to be heard. Both evenings and early mornings became my favorite. To wake up to a lake that was as smooth as glass was a treat, and Charlie and I would climb into the boat and jet to Sunapee Harbor for an iced coffee or breakfast. Our first morning home, we have to adjust to the sounds of inland living! No water! No boats roaring this way and that. Instead some giant truck was going down the hill and it sounded like a jet engine. I set bolt upright in bed, wondering if the world was coming to an end. I always thought this place was so quiet, but it's actually not. Lots of traffic on our road it seems. I don't like it.
Blodgett's Landing has been a part of my story since I was a young adult. It is where Peter and I came together, where our romance took root in a series of small cottages, as he would move out of his winter rental to move in with his parents on the lake. Oh, how I hated it when he did that! He became a slave to the dinner bell and our easy going routine would be harshly disrupted by his "I have to go home for dinner." Oh, I could write a novel on the dinner wars. Perhaps I will. Or not! I just spent the last week at the cottage preparing a slew of dinners to freeze for his parents, who have had health issues keep them from getting to the lake before this weekend. My biggest complaint has always been that when we would actually get to the lake, we would be on the dock, enjoying the sun and water, and we would have to go up to the porch at six thirty for dinner, which would then mean the best time of the evening would be spent on a tiny porch with many bodies, with the awning down to block out the sun. It drove me bonkers. I do, however, find it interesting that I did that this past weekend, with me being the architect of the design. I prepared the meals in the morning, losing my coveted time of enjoying the glass lake, etc. to chopping and stirring. Then later, back in the kitchen at my favorite time of evening to get dinner out to the table, for, you guessed it, a six thirty seating! What made it all tolerable was that I had spent the weeks prior to that enjoying the things that I like to do. It's kind of funny to realize that it wasn't the meals, or the time of the meals, or anything to do with the meals I had a problem with. I just wanted to see the sun set. I do love sunsets. I could sacrifice one or two because I had been gorging on them prior to it.
But I digress. Over the years we have returned to Blodgett's Landing for months at a time whenever we had something big happening to our "inland" home! But the last time we lived there for any significant amount of time was when Charlie was three. He is sixteen. It has been a long time, and over the years I have been convincing myself that I am okay with that, and that now the kids are older, I don't really have any reason to go there at all. They certainly don't need to be watched while they swim, and they can drive themselves over! I just assumed that other than visiting with Peter's parents, my connection to the cottage and the Landing itself would sort of die a natural death. But this past July at the lake has been so relaxing for us all. It is closer to both Maddie and Charlie's jobs, and even Peter, who does so love his own bed, realized that it's kind of nice to come home after a long, hard day at work and take a swim and maybe even a boat ride. He even commented that he thinks he would live longer if we lived at the lake. What I liked the most was that he was free of TV. He will get home and sit in front of that thing until he goes to bed. Hey, I watch TV too, but only late at night, only taped shows and not to become a couch zombie. His complaint is that while he is watching that, I am on the computer. True, that, but we don't watch ANY of the same shows, so why stop what I am doing to go sit near him and try to socialize while he stares at it. It's a problem, a problem I have pointed out before, but it was completely a non-issue as there really is no TV at the lake (there is, but it's old and there are no comfortable chairs to sit in while watching it) and so we would relax when he came home, together on the dock. It was nice. I will miss it. I can already feel my stomach clenching at the thought of him returning to the living room to while away his few hours before bedtime. But perhaps he has learned that there are other ways to relax, which would be nice.
It wasn't hard to return home last night because there are too many people there. What is an idyllic get-away for a family of four is way too small for eight plus people. Yesterday morning I thought I was going to burst because I couldn't find an open bathroom for over ten minutes!
The one good thing about being home was that I was actually able to sleep in. I am a bit sleep-deprived, for no other reason than I wanted long days I guess, and hopped out of bed bright and early to eke out every single hour I could! But this morning I just felt like I didn't ever have to get up. Which is good! Hard to sleep in at the cottage when you can hear people outside doing things and all you can wonder is, what am I missing? But here I am missing weeding and cleaning out the chicken coop -- I think I can prolong that!
I also haven't had an writing opportunities as I only have an iPad with me when I leave my inland house! So this feels gooooooood and while I could write until dusk, it is apparent my thoughts are scattered and so I should stop and put them together a bit before rambling on more!
Things I would like to go into depth:
The Landing and its significant impact on my life. The way being in a small community can be both charming and irritating!
The cottage and what it has meant to myself and my family. Dealing with other family members.
And more, I am sure!
We have been staying at the cottage for the last month or so, and it has been wonderful. Despite the fact that I had to return here every day to deal with dogs and chickens and gardens, it was worth it every night I sat on the porch or dock and watched the sun set and then listened to the lapping of the water as the community settled itself to sleep and eventually complete silence ensued, with only the occasional cry of a loon to be heard. Both evenings and early mornings became my favorite. To wake up to a lake that was as smooth as glass was a treat, and Charlie and I would climb into the boat and jet to Sunapee Harbor for an iced coffee or breakfast. Our first morning home, we have to adjust to the sounds of inland living! No water! No boats roaring this way and that. Instead some giant truck was going down the hill and it sounded like a jet engine. I set bolt upright in bed, wondering if the world was coming to an end. I always thought this place was so quiet, but it's actually not. Lots of traffic on our road it seems. I don't like it.
Blodgett's Landing has been a part of my story since I was a young adult. It is where Peter and I came together, where our romance took root in a series of small cottages, as he would move out of his winter rental to move in with his parents on the lake. Oh, how I hated it when he did that! He became a slave to the dinner bell and our easy going routine would be harshly disrupted by his "I have to go home for dinner." Oh, I could write a novel on the dinner wars. Perhaps I will. Or not! I just spent the last week at the cottage preparing a slew of dinners to freeze for his parents, who have had health issues keep them from getting to the lake before this weekend. My biggest complaint has always been that when we would actually get to the lake, we would be on the dock, enjoying the sun and water, and we would have to go up to the porch at six thirty for dinner, which would then mean the best time of the evening would be spent on a tiny porch with many bodies, with the awning down to block out the sun. It drove me bonkers. I do, however, find it interesting that I did that this past weekend, with me being the architect of the design. I prepared the meals in the morning, losing my coveted time of enjoying the glass lake, etc. to chopping and stirring. Then later, back in the kitchen at my favorite time of evening to get dinner out to the table, for, you guessed it, a six thirty seating! What made it all tolerable was that I had spent the weeks prior to that enjoying the things that I like to do. It's kind of funny to realize that it wasn't the meals, or the time of the meals, or anything to do with the meals I had a problem with. I just wanted to see the sun set. I do love sunsets. I could sacrifice one or two because I had been gorging on them prior to it.
But I digress. Over the years we have returned to Blodgett's Landing for months at a time whenever we had something big happening to our "inland" home! But the last time we lived there for any significant amount of time was when Charlie was three. He is sixteen. It has been a long time, and over the years I have been convincing myself that I am okay with that, and that now the kids are older, I don't really have any reason to go there at all. They certainly don't need to be watched while they swim, and they can drive themselves over! I just assumed that other than visiting with Peter's parents, my connection to the cottage and the Landing itself would sort of die a natural death. But this past July at the lake has been so relaxing for us all. It is closer to both Maddie and Charlie's jobs, and even Peter, who does so love his own bed, realized that it's kind of nice to come home after a long, hard day at work and take a swim and maybe even a boat ride. He even commented that he thinks he would live longer if we lived at the lake. What I liked the most was that he was free of TV. He will get home and sit in front of that thing until he goes to bed. Hey, I watch TV too, but only late at night, only taped shows and not to become a couch zombie. His complaint is that while he is watching that, I am on the computer. True, that, but we don't watch ANY of the same shows, so why stop what I am doing to go sit near him and try to socialize while he stares at it. It's a problem, a problem I have pointed out before, but it was completely a non-issue as there really is no TV at the lake (there is, but it's old and there are no comfortable chairs to sit in while watching it) and so we would relax when he came home, together on the dock. It was nice. I will miss it. I can already feel my stomach clenching at the thought of him returning to the living room to while away his few hours before bedtime. But perhaps he has learned that there are other ways to relax, which would be nice.
It wasn't hard to return home last night because there are too many people there. What is an idyllic get-away for a family of four is way too small for eight plus people. Yesterday morning I thought I was going to burst because I couldn't find an open bathroom for over ten minutes!
The one good thing about being home was that I was actually able to sleep in. I am a bit sleep-deprived, for no other reason than I wanted long days I guess, and hopped out of bed bright and early to eke out every single hour I could! But this morning I just felt like I didn't ever have to get up. Which is good! Hard to sleep in at the cottage when you can hear people outside doing things and all you can wonder is, what am I missing? But here I am missing weeding and cleaning out the chicken coop -- I think I can prolong that!
I also haven't had an writing opportunities as I only have an iPad with me when I leave my inland house! So this feels gooooooood and while I could write until dusk, it is apparent my thoughts are scattered and so I should stop and put them together a bit before rambling on more!
Things I would like to go into depth:
The Landing and its significant impact on my life. The way being in a small community can be both charming and irritating!
The cottage and what it has meant to myself and my family. Dealing with other family members.
And more, I am sure!
Monday, July 2, 2012
Putting down roots?
A good portion of each of my days is filled with a mish mash of garden-related chores. The other day I spent well over three hours on my hands and knees freeing the peas from the most aggressive grass. I had to literally find the somewhat weak root base of the pea plant and then feel around for the pieces of grass that were choking it out. As I finally reached the end of the line, I was amazed at how much time had passed. I didn't mind doing this chore all that much -- it was intricate surgery and required a lot of attention to detail. These pea plants are well over a foot high and already sprouting pods -- I didn't want them to be pulled out by accident, so I was meticulous in feeling around for the right root to pull out.
This morning I went out to turn on the watering system, and lo and behold if those peas didn't just shoot up another foot. Freed from the stranglehold of that pesky grass, it was able to grow, and grow it did!
The raspberry patch is another story. I have weeded that area at least six times already, and there is about a quarter of the patch still left. The grass and weeds flourish in there like nothing I have ever seen, and while I have put down hay around the areas where I have already weeded (for the SIXTH time, I learn quick, huh!) I can't do that in the other parts until they are free and clear. It is as though the weeds are cemented in ... BRUTAL ... it takes hours to get the tiniest patch cleared. The heavy pounding of the rain we have had has made the earth hard ... each and every single piece of unwanted growth needs to be hoed or scratched out with one tool or another. I can squat and bend for a few hours, but then I need to shake it up. I have been dealing with a "weeding" injury for a few weeks now -- a pain that is reminiscent of sciatica that I can recall from pregnancies. Hurts like hell sometimes, then goes away completely for a while. Of course, me being me, I listened to a friend talk about her ordeal with lyme disease, and of course, many of her symptoms mimic mine (or I get them just hearing about them, not sure which came first, the chicken or the egg) and I add that to the fact that I pulled off a tic from myself a few weeks ago, and well ... I am convinced I have lyme disease.
But then again, I COULD attribute it to the fact that I weed nearly every day, and that is pretty brutal on the body. I keep thinking maybe I should STOP weeding to see if it will go away. But I can't! It will get completely out of control. As soon as I finish weeding one patio (we have three large ones) the other two need attention. It is safe to say I weed all the time.
This is all in an attempt to keep poison off the property. My husband loves poison and has, in the past, taken care of the patios with Round-Up. Which has always upset me, but then again, it is a tad exhausting doing it "the natural way!" But if I am going to have free-range chickens around, I absolutely DO NOT WANT poison anywhere. Period. And the only way to do that is to keep the patios weeded so he won't even get the idea to do it. (I caught Charlie using it on one patio not too long ago ... geesh).
It is amazing to me how many hours I have been putting in, between the chickens and the gardens (and the patios too!) I haven't had any time to write in the past few weeks (months?) and yet, I am constantly drawn outside, where there is always something to do. I keep the chicken coop probably a lot cleaner than most ... because for some unbeknownst reason I keep applying my own thoughts and feelings to the silly fowl. "Oh, I woudn't want to sleep on all of this poop, so it must be removed." I read how people don't do a thorough cleaning of their coop more than once a month, and I do it weekly, and I touch it up daily. Overkill? Perhaps, but there seems to be a though process that there are certain standards for animals and anything above and beyond that is too much. Our outdoor run is six by twelve feet, I believe, and is about perfect for the 16 chickens to run around in, and stretch their wings, literally. We have been told a number of times that they don't need that much room. But I think to myself, why don't they? They love it, every morning when I let them out they rush around in circles and fly and hop and literally get their ya-ya's out. It's a pleasure to watch them truly enjoy themselves. And every time I bring in a pile of weeds they clamor about in glee. Maybe most chickens don't have feelings, but mine do! I have gotten over the "I have no idea what I am doing," phase and feel quite confident that there is no one way to raise chickens. I even look forward to getting a new batch of chicks (in the future, no time soon!) and I know exactly how I will do it this time, and I assure you, they will NOT be in my house. I have no idea what kind of crazy people think that is the way to go, but it is not necessary if you have a decent coop.
And another thing I have decided to let go of is the concern about predators. Peter and I have done our best to create a fortress of a chicken run, and then I read that raccoons will chew through chicken wire. Well, you know what? I want free range chickens ... I have one chicken that does everything in her power to sneak out, and I am not terribly sure why I won't let her run to her heart's content. My vision is chickens wandering about, and keeping them locked up isn't part of that. I wanted the run so that when we weren't home they could still be outside and somewhat safe, but somehow along the line I've forgotten that my intent is for them to run free. Peter asks me daily when I am going to start, and my mentality has been so focused on protecting them, I've forgotten the vision. So next week I am going to introduce them to the big, free world.
I think!
This morning I went out to turn on the watering system, and lo and behold if those peas didn't just shoot up another foot. Freed from the stranglehold of that pesky grass, it was able to grow, and grow it did!
The raspberry patch is another story. I have weeded that area at least six times already, and there is about a quarter of the patch still left. The grass and weeds flourish in there like nothing I have ever seen, and while I have put down hay around the areas where I have already weeded (for the SIXTH time, I learn quick, huh!) I can't do that in the other parts until they are free and clear. It is as though the weeds are cemented in ... BRUTAL ... it takes hours to get the tiniest patch cleared. The heavy pounding of the rain we have had has made the earth hard ... each and every single piece of unwanted growth needs to be hoed or scratched out with one tool or another. I can squat and bend for a few hours, but then I need to shake it up. I have been dealing with a "weeding" injury for a few weeks now -- a pain that is reminiscent of sciatica that I can recall from pregnancies. Hurts like hell sometimes, then goes away completely for a while. Of course, me being me, I listened to a friend talk about her ordeal with lyme disease, and of course, many of her symptoms mimic mine (or I get them just hearing about them, not sure which came first, the chicken or the egg) and I add that to the fact that I pulled off a tic from myself a few weeks ago, and well ... I am convinced I have lyme disease.
But then again, I COULD attribute it to the fact that I weed nearly every day, and that is pretty brutal on the body. I keep thinking maybe I should STOP weeding to see if it will go away. But I can't! It will get completely out of control. As soon as I finish weeding one patio (we have three large ones) the other two need attention. It is safe to say I weed all the time.
This is all in an attempt to keep poison off the property. My husband loves poison and has, in the past, taken care of the patios with Round-Up. Which has always upset me, but then again, it is a tad exhausting doing it "the natural way!" But if I am going to have free-range chickens around, I absolutely DO NOT WANT poison anywhere. Period. And the only way to do that is to keep the patios weeded so he won't even get the idea to do it. (I caught Charlie using it on one patio not too long ago ... geesh).
It is amazing to me how many hours I have been putting in, between the chickens and the gardens (and the patios too!) I haven't had any time to write in the past few weeks (months?) and yet, I am constantly drawn outside, where there is always something to do. I keep the chicken coop probably a lot cleaner than most ... because for some unbeknownst reason I keep applying my own thoughts and feelings to the silly fowl. "Oh, I woudn't want to sleep on all of this poop, so it must be removed." I read how people don't do a thorough cleaning of their coop more than once a month, and I do it weekly, and I touch it up daily. Overkill? Perhaps, but there seems to be a though process that there are certain standards for animals and anything above and beyond that is too much. Our outdoor run is six by twelve feet, I believe, and is about perfect for the 16 chickens to run around in, and stretch their wings, literally. We have been told a number of times that they don't need that much room. But I think to myself, why don't they? They love it, every morning when I let them out they rush around in circles and fly and hop and literally get their ya-ya's out. It's a pleasure to watch them truly enjoy themselves. And every time I bring in a pile of weeds they clamor about in glee. Maybe most chickens don't have feelings, but mine do! I have gotten over the "I have no idea what I am doing," phase and feel quite confident that there is no one way to raise chickens. I even look forward to getting a new batch of chicks (in the future, no time soon!) and I know exactly how I will do it this time, and I assure you, they will NOT be in my house. I have no idea what kind of crazy people think that is the way to go, but it is not necessary if you have a decent coop.
And another thing I have decided to let go of is the concern about predators. Peter and I have done our best to create a fortress of a chicken run, and then I read that raccoons will chew through chicken wire. Well, you know what? I want free range chickens ... I have one chicken that does everything in her power to sneak out, and I am not terribly sure why I won't let her run to her heart's content. My vision is chickens wandering about, and keeping them locked up isn't part of that. I wanted the run so that when we weren't home they could still be outside and somewhat safe, but somehow along the line I've forgotten that my intent is for them to run free. Peter asks me daily when I am going to start, and my mentality has been so focused on protecting them, I've forgotten the vision. So next week I am going to introduce them to the big, free world.
I think!
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Chick tales
The chicken adventure continues and I have to say that I am surprised at how little work they really are. The biggest thing has been getting the coop ready, and most recently, their outdoor run.
They are growing like crazy and have provided hours of entertainment for all! Out of the 16, there is one I call "pitchfork" because when I am cleaning the coop she runs after the pitchfork like it is her job. And then there is Diva, who digs herself a hole in the dirt and gives herself a dust bath, over and over and over.
While the other chickens are rushing about doing serious chicken business, such as pecking at the ground furiously, Diva does this. With no apologies. A chicken after my own heart!
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| When Diva finishes her dust bath, she stretches out and lounges in the sun! |
I actually have no problem with being referred to as the crazy chicken lady! Birds of a feather flock together and all! And I am especially glad that the kids are enjoying them as well. Maddie kept insisting that they freaked her out, but she enjoys hanging with them.
 |
| Charlie and the chick ... in their new outdoor run Peter and I constructed out of an old dog pen. We also dug in fence two feet into the ground to deter predators. |
And Lucy isn't sure what to do with them. She tries to play and they run away, but I am working on their socialization! This morning I went down to the coop to check on food and water and they had been up to all sorts of mischief. The big piece of cardboard I keep to put over the screen door on cold nights had been knocked down and pooped on to the point I may have to throw it away, and a roll of paper towels that I had stored in the top nesting box had been knocked down, I guess, and it was unrolled and strewn all about. Such fun they had! It is raining today and the tarp over their outdoor run (we will build a permanent cover but ran out of time this past weekend) had filled with water and collapsed in, and so until I fix that, I don't want to put them out. They are clearly miffed that they are not getting out, and several of them were sitting by the door expectantly! And who says chickens are dumb!
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| A buff orpington tells Diva to get up and get to work! |
I would love to name more of them, but quite frankly, I can't tell them apart unless they are chasing a pitchfork or lounging in the dirt. They are pretty much all the same size, with the exception of one who we are almost wondering if she is a rooster -- she looks so different from the others. She/He is pictured on the left, and has a redder comb and is a different color (though in this picture it doesn't really show up.) They are six weeks now, and only four months or so until we get eggs!
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Trial by error
Back in the day, such an expression! it was common for things to be handed down through stories and essentially being taught all the things necessary for every day living. Mother's taught their daughter's what it took to run a household, and father's taught their sons what it took to do whatever it was he did, either through apprenticeship or whatever. While it is highly unlikely that I would have stood around and listened to any particular lesson in home making, there is a part of me that wishes that I'd seen SOMETHING, that I could have potentially absorbed by osmosis.
While progress has taken many women out of the kitchen and into the world where they can do whatever they want, necessity is pushing many of us back into it. I still fight with the constraints of what it means to saddle yourself with a flock of chickens and an enormous garden that is going to mean preserving of food -- something I am just not that comfortable with. And it's annoying.
I don't know if it is due to age or what, but I find myself researching and researching how to do something, instead of just using my gut! I had a baby and read as many books as I could get my hands on, but back then it was literally Dr. Spock and What to Expect when You're Expecting out there ... and maybe that was a good thing. Two very different viewpoints and ways to do things -- and I figured out that somewhere in the middle was just right.
I was much more comfortable raising a baby than I am baby chicks! I know that sounds ridiculous, and believe me, I KNOW THAT SOUNDS RIDICULOUS, but somehow I felt raising a baby human was obvious, whereas raising baby chicks not so much. In fact, I have read too much and I keep pointing out to myself that they are happy. They don't complain and they do what they are supposed to, which is roughly eat, poop, sleep, poop, drink, poop and as of late flap their wings. But I worry about their "brooder" becoming too small, and then what? So I google ... what do you do when your chicks are too big for their brooder ... and read. And read. And read. All the while, the chicks are fine in their current situation. What the hell? I worry that I might have gotten the wrong shavings by accident. Didn't I read that a certain type of shavings was toxic to them? Why didn't I write that down when I went to buy shavings? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? How could I make such a stupid error? (The toxic shavings are cedar and I bought aspen. It's all okay. For now.)
And then there are my seedlings. There are just too many little things depending on me right now, it's freaking me out! My seedlings are under the grow lights in the basement. I have googled how long are you supposed to keep seedlings under grow lights countless times ... I still don't really know. Some are growing yellow, I googled that. I am at the point now where too much knowledge is really only getting in the way. What the hell is wrong with figuring it all out on my own?
And herein lies the problem. It's all too easy, I think. I am over-thinking it all because can anything really be THAT easy. Really, ALL I have to do is put a pea down on the ground and cover it lightly with soil and it will grow? It just doesn't make sense ... being so easy, so somehow I have to figure out a way to make it more complicated ... and then what? I don't know. I am just guessing that this is what is going on, but I don't like it.
I want to make this recipe of Beet Kvass. This is a fermented beverage made out of beets and a culture. Of course EVERYONE has their own way of making beet kvass, and some leave it to ferment for two days, others for a week. Which is right? Now here is the thing. I make water kefir all the time, there is always a jar sitting on my counter. I have determined that I like it best when it has fermented for three days. That is another example of something that there is no true right or wrong way ... but even with this knowledge, I still second guess myself. Oh no! Someone is talking about mold. I don't want mold. Google that.
The truth of the matter is, I have beets, I have the culture starter and I have a mason jar. Several of the things I read used the jar. But another, the one of the woman I tend to like her recipes and advice, etc. uses an actual fermenter. I googled that. Do I really need to buy a fermenter? That is when I lost it! That is when I started this blog, in an attempt to chill out and stop making things harder than they need to be. I know how to make fermented beverages, why do I think I am now going to actually be doing rocket science this time around? I JUST DON'T KNOW why I seem to have no natural affinity for this ... and then I think, well maybe you do! Your chickens are happy, your seedlings are fine, there are a FEW that are turning yellow for heaven's sake, and you've been fermenting kefir for years, and you've also brewed kombucha, grown your own wheat grass and frozen a ton of things from the garden last year that you are enjoying now. So what is going on?
I don't know. I find it weird. I seem to think that if my grandmother had shown my mother how to can and preserve food and then she had taught me, the universe would be in alignment. When I know, not so very deep in my heart, that I would have scoffed at any attempt to teach me anything. My grandfather had a garden and fruit bushes, and I just didn't pay that much attention. For one, there were creepy crawly things in gardens (and that sure as hell hasn't stopped bothering me to this day!) and while I have attempted to build the same structures that he used (to no avail) for tomatoes, because I can see them in my mind's eye ... that's about all I got out of it. (And my mind's eye and my carpentry skills have never gotten along -- they are like mortal enemies who stalk each other, ready to knife the other.)
Okay, now I have to go clean out the chick brooder and without Google assistance, figure out if my yellowing plants need to be watered or fertilized or just left alone. Like the peas. I put them in the ground, lightly covered them with soil, then everyday lamented that it hadn't worked. The peas never came up. So I planted a second crop (in a different area) and lo and behold, the others came up. Peter mentioned that I need to have patience. Yeah, that might be part of the problem. I don't have any.
I wonder if you can google it and then buy it on Amazon?
While progress has taken many women out of the kitchen and into the world where they can do whatever they want, necessity is pushing many of us back into it. I still fight with the constraints of what it means to saddle yourself with a flock of chickens and an enormous garden that is going to mean preserving of food -- something I am just not that comfortable with. And it's annoying.
I don't know if it is due to age or what, but I find myself researching and researching how to do something, instead of just using my gut! I had a baby and read as many books as I could get my hands on, but back then it was literally Dr. Spock and What to Expect when You're Expecting out there ... and maybe that was a good thing. Two very different viewpoints and ways to do things -- and I figured out that somewhere in the middle was just right.
I was much more comfortable raising a baby than I am baby chicks! I know that sounds ridiculous, and believe me, I KNOW THAT SOUNDS RIDICULOUS, but somehow I felt raising a baby human was obvious, whereas raising baby chicks not so much. In fact, I have read too much and I keep pointing out to myself that they are happy. They don't complain and they do what they are supposed to, which is roughly eat, poop, sleep, poop, drink, poop and as of late flap their wings. But I worry about their "brooder" becoming too small, and then what? So I google ... what do you do when your chicks are too big for their brooder ... and read. And read. And read. All the while, the chicks are fine in their current situation. What the hell? I worry that I might have gotten the wrong shavings by accident. Didn't I read that a certain type of shavings was toxic to them? Why didn't I write that down when I went to buy shavings? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? How could I make such a stupid error? (The toxic shavings are cedar and I bought aspen. It's all okay. For now.)
And then there are my seedlings. There are just too many little things depending on me right now, it's freaking me out! My seedlings are under the grow lights in the basement. I have googled how long are you supposed to keep seedlings under grow lights countless times ... I still don't really know. Some are growing yellow, I googled that. I am at the point now where too much knowledge is really only getting in the way. What the hell is wrong with figuring it all out on my own?
And herein lies the problem. It's all too easy, I think. I am over-thinking it all because can anything really be THAT easy. Really, ALL I have to do is put a pea down on the ground and cover it lightly with soil and it will grow? It just doesn't make sense ... being so easy, so somehow I have to figure out a way to make it more complicated ... and then what? I don't know. I am just guessing that this is what is going on, but I don't like it.
I want to make this recipe of Beet Kvass. This is a fermented beverage made out of beets and a culture. Of course EVERYONE has their own way of making beet kvass, and some leave it to ferment for two days, others for a week. Which is right? Now here is the thing. I make water kefir all the time, there is always a jar sitting on my counter. I have determined that I like it best when it has fermented for three days. That is another example of something that there is no true right or wrong way ... but even with this knowledge, I still second guess myself. Oh no! Someone is talking about mold. I don't want mold. Google that.
The truth of the matter is, I have beets, I have the culture starter and I have a mason jar. Several of the things I read used the jar. But another, the one of the woman I tend to like her recipes and advice, etc. uses an actual fermenter. I googled that. Do I really need to buy a fermenter? That is when I lost it! That is when I started this blog, in an attempt to chill out and stop making things harder than they need to be. I know how to make fermented beverages, why do I think I am now going to actually be doing rocket science this time around? I JUST DON'T KNOW why I seem to have no natural affinity for this ... and then I think, well maybe you do! Your chickens are happy, your seedlings are fine, there are a FEW that are turning yellow for heaven's sake, and you've been fermenting kefir for years, and you've also brewed kombucha, grown your own wheat grass and frozen a ton of things from the garden last year that you are enjoying now. So what is going on?
I don't know. I find it weird. I seem to think that if my grandmother had shown my mother how to can and preserve food and then she had taught me, the universe would be in alignment. When I know, not so very deep in my heart, that I would have scoffed at any attempt to teach me anything. My grandfather had a garden and fruit bushes, and I just didn't pay that much attention. For one, there were creepy crawly things in gardens (and that sure as hell hasn't stopped bothering me to this day!) and while I have attempted to build the same structures that he used (to no avail) for tomatoes, because I can see them in my mind's eye ... that's about all I got out of it. (And my mind's eye and my carpentry skills have never gotten along -- they are like mortal enemies who stalk each other, ready to knife the other.)
Okay, now I have to go clean out the chick brooder and without Google assistance, figure out if my yellowing plants need to be watered or fertilized or just left alone. Like the peas. I put them in the ground, lightly covered them with soil, then everyday lamented that it hadn't worked. The peas never came up. So I planted a second crop (in a different area) and lo and behold, the others came up. Peter mentioned that I need to have patience. Yeah, that might be part of the problem. I don't have any.
I wonder if you can google it and then buy it on Amazon?
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Computers, food and chickens
Apparently my blog has a new look. The world just keeps changing I guess! What is funny is that it sort of ties in with what I was going to talk about, in a kinda sorta way.
So Peter bought a new computer for his office and therefore needed me to transfer all the stuff from the old to the new, etc. It became quite apparent to me while doing this that the old computer was in great shape and certainly had plenty of life left in it, so I decided to give it to my father. This would seem like a fairly innocuous gesture (damn, new set-up doesn't do autocorrect!) perhaps I spelled that innocuous word correctly, but anyway, the gifting of this computer would mean that I would have to teach my father to go from a PC to a Mac. In other words, was I crazy?
I did the transfer of information and the teaching of where it was all located in the new operating system over the weekend with Peter. It amazed me how little he knew of what he did on a daily basis, and I showed him how to do things faster, more streamlined, and yet, he kept asking questions about things that don't really matter. Like why was this particular file (an application) where it was. Honestly, I have been working with computers since the beginning of time (or so it feels sometimes!) and not ONCE have I EVER questioned the location of a file. It's like if I went into an office building and it just drove me INSANE that the receptionists desk was to my right and not to my left. (I use any type of analogy I can come up with to try to point out how ridiculous such comments and concerns are, but thus far no one seems to get it!)
I found it interesting the things that bothered Peter. For example, the original computer I was transferring the files, applications and documents from had been mine. I have always been quite convincing, both at home and for all the years I worked at the newspaper, that it made the MOST sense for me to get whatever new computer we needed and then I would relinquish my older model to whomever it was actually needed a computer. Makes sense, right? No one ever questioned this, including Peter, so whenever he has needed a new one ... well, you get the picture. I like to have the fastest, newest, biggest and best, and no one else has ever really questioned that! LOL But he was getting a new fancy schmancy printer/scanner/copier at his office and needed more oomph, and here is the thing ... I didn't need an upgrade myself! I couldn't have a bigger screen or I would have to go outside to see it, I have plenty of juice for all the applications I need ... I'd hit the top and that last peak just isn't necessary!
So Peter actually got the new computer, but because I used Migration Assistant in transferring files, it also came over on his new computer that I was a User, and an administrative user at that, and well, he doesn't like to see my name in HIS computer!~ He wanted it to be his, and only his. Fine, I assured him that I would delete my pesky name from his computer, but in the meantime, there were more pressing urgent matters ... like getting a PC and a Mac to get along. The big new fancy schmancy printer thingamabobby is PC-run, and Peter wants to be able to share files between that and the Mac.
But I am getting ahead of myself. In the meantime, Peter took his new computer to the office, all set up and ready to go, and I took the older one to my father. I knew there was going to be a learning curve, so I packed clothes in case I needed to overnight it. I made myself completely available to him for a full day so that he could ask any questions he wanted and I could help solve the problems he encountered. Then I left him with tons of sticky notes tacked all over the computer with simple directions and told him to write down any further questions and I would return in a few day's time.
In the meanwhile, Peter asked me to come to his office while the new fancy schmancy thingamabob was being set up in the event the person doing so didn't know how to connect Macs and PC.s (He didn't.) But the actual set-up took hours, and I wasn't able to work on connectivity until it was getting late and we still had other things to do, so I said I would figure it out another time because he could still print, scan and copy files from the mac and vice versa using a thumb drive, and really, that isn't the end of the world in the interim. BUT ... before I left, could I PLEASE do something about my user name being in there, it was DRIVING HIM CRAZY!
OMG. Seriously?
So I removed it from all the directories I could find, but you see, these people, and when I use that term I refer to my father and husband, are obsessed with SEEKING OUT THE THINGS THAT DRIVE THEM INSANE. I just don't get this. I taught myself how to program computers, I taught myself how to desktop publish, I taught myself how to use PhotoShop, I taught myself how to use Excel, which is no easy feat I might add (to use as a database), certainly not as easy as true programming, and never for a single solitary second, not even a brief, passing millisecond, did it ever occur to me to give a damn about something that didn't keep me from doing what I needed to do. Never. So I just don't get it.
I can address problems and I do my best to solve them. But those actions are secondary to the fact that I won't be as bothered by these non-essential things as they are! In fact, the fact that I have come across this issue twice in the same week has left me most curious. Is it the male brain?
I returned to my father's domicile and addressed the list of questions he had. They were fairly simple and I spelled it out for him (literally) so he could access the answers at any time. But there were a few things driving him crazy. One of them? MY NAME was in the computer, why was that. Seriously? Do people not like my name? LOL
Oh. And there were icons on the dock that he didn't understand. I tried to explain that when you open an application, it seats an icon on the dock so that you are aware that you have that particular application open. If it drove him nuts, then he could close it. I gave him examples, but then the printer icon popped up and he exclaimed SEE, like that one, why is it there? I calmly explained that it was because he was printing a document. Will it go away he wanted to know. Yes, but if not, he could close it. Why did he have to close it?
You can see that in my head I am screaming WHY THE HELL DOES IT MATTER? But I calmly and clearly state that he doesn't HAVE to close it, but since it appears to be BOTHERING him, closing it seems the most appropriate thing to do since ignoring it doesn't seem to be an option.
Both my husband and my father are most curious as to why I don't do something with computers as a job, (you know, because I obviously NEED a job since I have so much time to help them!) And when I was watching the guy set up the thingamabob for Peter, I even gave him a few pointers to make things quicker ... so it's not as though I couldn't. But I will tell you why. It is because computers are easy, but it's the PEOPLE I can't deal with! My brain doesn't seem to work the way others do ... and anything you do with computers is insanely frustrating because sometimes one thing will work perfectly and then the next time you go to do it, it won't. That isn't logical, but you can't deal with great amounts of information without the knowledge that it will try to beat you down in one way or another. To me, it is a challenge, but what if I spent my time asking WHY such and such happened? You just can't. If you want to know what I am talking about, use any complicated software for even the most simplest of tasks, and then try to do the same thing again using the same method. There is no guarantee that it will work. In fact, I bet it won't! I am not talking about opening and closing files, either. I will work for hours and hours and hours to solve a problem, build a database, try to format a document (that is hell no matter how you slice it!) and not let any of the things that could push the average person over the edge bother me. So you can see why the most silliest of things bothering someone seems just ludicrous to me. Maybe it's because I know too much? I don't know. But the bottom line is, I have no patience in explaining the same things over and over and over only to have someone ask me why my name is in the computer. Huh?
But having spent a full week doing computer-related things, I did realize I enjoy it. Not the people part, no way no how, but trying to figure out how to get Mac and PC to play is fun and challenging because I don't think anyone really knows for sure! Oh yes, there are directions on how to do this and do that, but that doesn't mean it will work. Very often you will have to do the opposite of the directions. But I get that. It's always been that way with computers. They are illogically logical. Or at least software is. And I started to think, is it because when programmers are writing code, they do what I used to do, and copy and paste large chunks of already written code and then modify that to do what you wanted it to do. Because that makes sense, in an illogically logical type of way, that software is so much more complicated than it has to be, and it would make sense if it was trying to do something to a certain point, then it runs into another piece of code that sends it off in another direction. I was never sure which parts to get rid of (and since it worked, why bother) but think about this happening to a huge degree. Well, obviously most people don't even know what the hell I am talking about, and a computer programmer would say she has no idea what she is talking about ... yeah, whatever. And therein lies the problem. LOL
So as I was thinking about what it would be that I could do that would incorporate my interest in computer-related things, I went to Trader Joe's to buy food and the check-out woman was talking to another employee about the raw food diet. She looked at me and said, I know, you have no idea what I am talking about, and I said, actually, I do. And she tried to catch me up on it, asking if I had a juicer (yes) and then she said, well, my excalibur is on order. And I said I have one, don't use it very much, but my favorite recipes are kale and onion bread. Oh, she said, you really do know what you are talking about. (Why would I lie?) I explained that I had taken a very expensive course on it, but had concluded that while I could find a lot of benefits to it, ultimately I had determined that eating an almost strict organic diet (she had noted that everything I had bought was organic) of lean meats and vegetables and fruits, no processed foods and now no wheat was where I was at now. At this point she had called the other employee over and they were both asking me questions. The other person behind me in line also started asking things, and there was nothing they asked that I didn't know about. You should be teaching about this stuff, the woman told me, and it just cracked me up. I do NOT WANT TO BE A TEACHER! I have no patience for people not getting it immediately, and while I had no problem answering all of their questions, what would drive me nuts if I was supposedly teaching and advising them would be the fact that they would continue on with their normal eating patterns no matter what I said.
I don't want a job, so afterwards, as I was driving, I pondered exactly what the universe was trying to say. I still don't know, but it was a very clear message in that I got it, and when you have that feeling of knowing, it definitely means something.
Right now it is about chickens ... I feel strongly that this is going to be a lesson I need to learn, whatever it is and for whatever reason. And maybe somehow all these things will tie together in a much more coherent manner than it is now. But the only thing I know for sure is that I have no control. Oh, and that having my name on this computer doesn't bother me one bit!!!
So Peter bought a new computer for his office and therefore needed me to transfer all the stuff from the old to the new, etc. It became quite apparent to me while doing this that the old computer was in great shape and certainly had plenty of life left in it, so I decided to give it to my father. This would seem like a fairly innocuous gesture (damn, new set-up doesn't do autocorrect!) perhaps I spelled that innocuous word correctly, but anyway, the gifting of this computer would mean that I would have to teach my father to go from a PC to a Mac. In other words, was I crazy?
I did the transfer of information and the teaching of where it was all located in the new operating system over the weekend with Peter. It amazed me how little he knew of what he did on a daily basis, and I showed him how to do things faster, more streamlined, and yet, he kept asking questions about things that don't really matter. Like why was this particular file (an application) where it was. Honestly, I have been working with computers since the beginning of time (or so it feels sometimes!) and not ONCE have I EVER questioned the location of a file. It's like if I went into an office building and it just drove me INSANE that the receptionists desk was to my right and not to my left. (I use any type of analogy I can come up with to try to point out how ridiculous such comments and concerns are, but thus far no one seems to get it!)
I found it interesting the things that bothered Peter. For example, the original computer I was transferring the files, applications and documents from had been mine. I have always been quite convincing, both at home and for all the years I worked at the newspaper, that it made the MOST sense for me to get whatever new computer we needed and then I would relinquish my older model to whomever it was actually needed a computer. Makes sense, right? No one ever questioned this, including Peter, so whenever he has needed a new one ... well, you get the picture. I like to have the fastest, newest, biggest and best, and no one else has ever really questioned that! LOL But he was getting a new fancy schmancy printer/scanner/copier at his office and needed more oomph, and here is the thing ... I didn't need an upgrade myself! I couldn't have a bigger screen or I would have to go outside to see it, I have plenty of juice for all the applications I need ... I'd hit the top and that last peak just isn't necessary!
So Peter actually got the new computer, but because I used Migration Assistant in transferring files, it also came over on his new computer that I was a User, and an administrative user at that, and well, he doesn't like to see my name in HIS computer!~ He wanted it to be his, and only his. Fine, I assured him that I would delete my pesky name from his computer, but in the meantime, there were more pressing urgent matters ... like getting a PC and a Mac to get along. The big new fancy schmancy printer thingamabobby is PC-run, and Peter wants to be able to share files between that and the Mac.
But I am getting ahead of myself. In the meantime, Peter took his new computer to the office, all set up and ready to go, and I took the older one to my father. I knew there was going to be a learning curve, so I packed clothes in case I needed to overnight it. I made myself completely available to him for a full day so that he could ask any questions he wanted and I could help solve the problems he encountered. Then I left him with tons of sticky notes tacked all over the computer with simple directions and told him to write down any further questions and I would return in a few day's time.
In the meanwhile, Peter asked me to come to his office while the new fancy schmancy thingamabob was being set up in the event the person doing so didn't know how to connect Macs and PC.s (He didn't.) But the actual set-up took hours, and I wasn't able to work on connectivity until it was getting late and we still had other things to do, so I said I would figure it out another time because he could still print, scan and copy files from the mac and vice versa using a thumb drive, and really, that isn't the end of the world in the interim. BUT ... before I left, could I PLEASE do something about my user name being in there, it was DRIVING HIM CRAZY!
OMG. Seriously?
So I removed it from all the directories I could find, but you see, these people, and when I use that term I refer to my father and husband, are obsessed with SEEKING OUT THE THINGS THAT DRIVE THEM INSANE. I just don't get this. I taught myself how to program computers, I taught myself how to desktop publish, I taught myself how to use PhotoShop, I taught myself how to use Excel, which is no easy feat I might add (to use as a database), certainly not as easy as true programming, and never for a single solitary second, not even a brief, passing millisecond, did it ever occur to me to give a damn about something that didn't keep me from doing what I needed to do. Never. So I just don't get it.
I can address problems and I do my best to solve them. But those actions are secondary to the fact that I won't be as bothered by these non-essential things as they are! In fact, the fact that I have come across this issue twice in the same week has left me most curious. Is it the male brain?
I returned to my father's domicile and addressed the list of questions he had. They were fairly simple and I spelled it out for him (literally) so he could access the answers at any time. But there were a few things driving him crazy. One of them? MY NAME was in the computer, why was that. Seriously? Do people not like my name? LOL
Oh. And there were icons on the dock that he didn't understand. I tried to explain that when you open an application, it seats an icon on the dock so that you are aware that you have that particular application open. If it drove him nuts, then he could close it. I gave him examples, but then the printer icon popped up and he exclaimed SEE, like that one, why is it there? I calmly explained that it was because he was printing a document. Will it go away he wanted to know. Yes, but if not, he could close it. Why did he have to close it?
You can see that in my head I am screaming WHY THE HELL DOES IT MATTER? But I calmly and clearly state that he doesn't HAVE to close it, but since it appears to be BOTHERING him, closing it seems the most appropriate thing to do since ignoring it doesn't seem to be an option.
Both my husband and my father are most curious as to why I don't do something with computers as a job, (you know, because I obviously NEED a job since I have so much time to help them!) And when I was watching the guy set up the thingamabob for Peter, I even gave him a few pointers to make things quicker ... so it's not as though I couldn't. But I will tell you why. It is because computers are easy, but it's the PEOPLE I can't deal with! My brain doesn't seem to work the way others do ... and anything you do with computers is insanely frustrating because sometimes one thing will work perfectly and then the next time you go to do it, it won't. That isn't logical, but you can't deal with great amounts of information without the knowledge that it will try to beat you down in one way or another. To me, it is a challenge, but what if I spent my time asking WHY such and such happened? You just can't. If you want to know what I am talking about, use any complicated software for even the most simplest of tasks, and then try to do the same thing again using the same method. There is no guarantee that it will work. In fact, I bet it won't! I am not talking about opening and closing files, either. I will work for hours and hours and hours to solve a problem, build a database, try to format a document (that is hell no matter how you slice it!) and not let any of the things that could push the average person over the edge bother me. So you can see why the most silliest of things bothering someone seems just ludicrous to me. Maybe it's because I know too much? I don't know. But the bottom line is, I have no patience in explaining the same things over and over and over only to have someone ask me why my name is in the computer. Huh?
But having spent a full week doing computer-related things, I did realize I enjoy it. Not the people part, no way no how, but trying to figure out how to get Mac and PC to play is fun and challenging because I don't think anyone really knows for sure! Oh yes, there are directions on how to do this and do that, but that doesn't mean it will work. Very often you will have to do the opposite of the directions. But I get that. It's always been that way with computers. They are illogically logical. Or at least software is. And I started to think, is it because when programmers are writing code, they do what I used to do, and copy and paste large chunks of already written code and then modify that to do what you wanted it to do. Because that makes sense, in an illogically logical type of way, that software is so much more complicated than it has to be, and it would make sense if it was trying to do something to a certain point, then it runs into another piece of code that sends it off in another direction. I was never sure which parts to get rid of (and since it worked, why bother) but think about this happening to a huge degree. Well, obviously most people don't even know what the hell I am talking about, and a computer programmer would say she has no idea what she is talking about ... yeah, whatever. And therein lies the problem. LOL
So as I was thinking about what it would be that I could do that would incorporate my interest in computer-related things, I went to Trader Joe's to buy food and the check-out woman was talking to another employee about the raw food diet. She looked at me and said, I know, you have no idea what I am talking about, and I said, actually, I do. And she tried to catch me up on it, asking if I had a juicer (yes) and then she said, well, my excalibur is on order. And I said I have one, don't use it very much, but my favorite recipes are kale and onion bread. Oh, she said, you really do know what you are talking about. (Why would I lie?) I explained that I had taken a very expensive course on it, but had concluded that while I could find a lot of benefits to it, ultimately I had determined that eating an almost strict organic diet (she had noted that everything I had bought was organic) of lean meats and vegetables and fruits, no processed foods and now no wheat was where I was at now. At this point she had called the other employee over and they were both asking me questions. The other person behind me in line also started asking things, and there was nothing they asked that I didn't know about. You should be teaching about this stuff, the woman told me, and it just cracked me up. I do NOT WANT TO BE A TEACHER! I have no patience for people not getting it immediately, and while I had no problem answering all of their questions, what would drive me nuts if I was supposedly teaching and advising them would be the fact that they would continue on with their normal eating patterns no matter what I said.
I don't want a job, so afterwards, as I was driving, I pondered exactly what the universe was trying to say. I still don't know, but it was a very clear message in that I got it, and when you have that feeling of knowing, it definitely means something.
Right now it is about chickens ... I feel strongly that this is going to be a lesson I need to learn, whatever it is and for whatever reason. And maybe somehow all these things will tie together in a much more coherent manner than it is now. But the only thing I know for sure is that I have no control. Oh, and that having my name on this computer doesn't bother me one bit!!!
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