Happy Holidays

Yes, I said it, "Happy Holidays."  That much maligned politically correct well wish that covers all the winter solstice festivities, "Happy Holidays".  Why is it that Christians are so appalled by this simple greeting?  "It's CHRISTmas!" they say to me.

Not for my Jewish friends Dana and Sharon, it's Happy Hanukkah for them.  Not for my Muslim friend Fowad, it's Eid (or was) for him.  And my pagan Wiccan and free spirited friends are celebrating the Winter Solstice, that special day of the year where the daylight hours start getting longer again, for which I, too, thank the heavens! 

I googled it and there are too many celebrations to list this time of year, mostly celebrations of lights since there is so little of it right now, especially the further North you go.  There are holidays about light and singing and fire to defeat the cold and fasting, but by far my favorite is: Flying Spaghetti Monster Holiday.  What is this, you may be asking?  Around the time of Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa, Pastafarians celebrate a vaguely-defined holiday named "Holiday", which doesn't take place on a specific date so much as it is the Holiday season, itself. Because Pastafarians reject dogma and formalism, there are no specific requirements for the holiday.

That's it, I am officially going Pastafarian.  A Pastafarian would say something polite in response to the greeting, "Happy Holidays."  Something like, "Thank you, and Happy Holidays to you too."

Alternative fuel heat source is coming to HasliVal!

I am dancing for joy, one of my wishes for Christmas is coming true. I am getting a Lodi Republic 1750 woodstove! It's being installed next week. Isn't it just the bee's knees? I looked at the disposable income and thought "What the heck?"

We also had a dead tree come down in the last windstorm and I am thinking its branches will keep the ole homestead toasty warm this Winter. Of course Texas Winters don't pack the wallop that Ohio or New York Winters do, but it can get downright nasty here in January and February. I feel blessed to know that I can keep my kids warm and fed should the power go out in a storm.

One more baby step towards self sufficiency. The next lump of disposable income goes to a solar panel to power the well.

Happy Thanksgiving.

There's a 20 pound turkey cooking in my oven as I type. He's stuffed with potato stuffing that was lovingly made by my parents and delivered to my kitchen yesterday because I had to work late. The potato stuffing recipe is a family favorite, specifically requested by my brother, and it fills the body cavity, but I tried a new recipe for the stuffing in the neck. Sausage, apples, walnuts, onions and seasoned bread crumbs. Sounded yummy, we'll see in a few hours.

All this sounds rather mundane, I know, but the difference is that this turkey came from a local farm, and I processed him myself. Yep, I can add "Turkey Killer" to the ole resume. My parents are so proud. (read - appalled) This turkey spent his days waddling around a petting zoo being mauled by slobbery but enthusiastic toddlers. After petting zoo season was over, he returned to the farm life and wandered around the farm just being a turkey.

He's really only had one bad day in his life, and I made sure that was as quick and painless as I could manage. It's another step away from the commercially raised world and I am glad I took it. Though I have to admit the sausage is Jimmy Dean and the bread crumbs are Pepperidge Farm. Baby steps, people, baby steps.

McDonald's Eggs

There's a video making the Facebook rounds today that shows the "Ugly Truth" behind McDonald's egg supplier. I didn't watch it because I already know enough about the horrors that happen in commercial egg factories. (Yes, I called it a factory not a farm.) I found those videos years ago. They are what started the shifting paradigm I am living today.

Right now, 24 fat little meat-type chickens are sleeping happily in a 12x12 stall in the barn. They are resting up from a full day of romping and frolicking in their huge yard. Our eggs come from the laying hens that forage through that same yard though they sleep in the coop, not a stall. We get enough eggs to feed our family's egg habit, and what we don't eat we offer to friends and family. Eggland or whatever major dealer that pushes eggs in this area has not gotten a dime from me in two years. And sometime after the 7th of December, Tyson's is getting added to that 'not gettin a dime' list because there will be homegrown chicken in my freezer.

Yay Team!

I did notice that within hours of this video going viral, McDonalds said they had 'dropped' the supplier because of the video. Wow. Really? How stupid do they think we are? Do they expect us to believe that nobody from McDonalds ever went to the supplier to check it out? All this was NEWS to them? What a crock of poo.

Speaking of poo, I have to get up early to swamp out the meatie chicken's stall tomorrow. They poo something fierce.

Walking the walk anyway?

Happy news for my co-workers, we are not having our positions eliminated. I received this news with mixed emotions. To be perfectly honest, I was kindof looking forward to getting laid off.

After nearly 13 years with the company, I was thinking that it would not be the worst thing in the world to be booted. There would be severance and unemployment benefits so we would not starve to death in the near future. Getting let go would require me to make changes, to take on the homesteading and farming business whole heartedly. Not having to work at a desk for 9 hours a day would allow me enough TIME to get everything done during the day that needs to get done.

Yes, I was really worried about how it would work without that regular paycheck, but a part of me was glorifying in the freedom that would have afforded. Things that make me go, "Hmmmmm."

Dear Santa,

This year for Christmas, please bring me the courage to go forward with my dream of living more sustainably.

First, I'd like a windmill to help bring the well water out of the ground. I will add rain catch barrels to help ease the strain on the pump.

Second please help me get some solar panels to harness the hot Texas sun into electricity to power the glorious inventions called hot water, air conditioning and refrigeration.

Third, if you are feeling froggy, a woodstove would be lovely, so I can keep the kids and myself toasty during the short but often icy Texas winters.

Thank you for taking time from your busy pre-holiday preparations to read this letter.

Sincerely,
One who believes.

All Hallow's Eve

I took the kids Trick-or-Treating in the old 'hood last night. My brother and sister in law (K&D) still live there with my nephew and nieces and technically I still own a house there, so we weren't really 'crashing' like the vanloads of North Side kids were. I understand that their neighborhoods are not safe to Trick-or-Treat in, but after you watch these kids jack entire bowls of candy left out in good faith by early retiring residents (with a "Please Take Just 1" sign attached, no less) you get a little tired of them.

Upon arrival, I turned the kids loose with their cousins and started the obligatory Halloween Parental Trudge with K&D and another neighbor-urchin's father. The sidewalks were neatly edged, and each lawn was mowed to the required 4 inch height. Every house had its regulation sized flower area well mulched and exteriors were appropriately decorated for the season. My brother, bless his heart, is the VP of the Homeowners Association so we notice these things.

We laughingly pointed to various signage that is not allowed under HOA regulations and spoke jokingly of how many neighbors complained about the one house that sports solar panels. (Texas Green Laws trump HOA rules, thank GOD!) Every homeowner looked happy, and I am happy for them. But I am even happier that the beautiful house my parents help me build from scratch will belong to someone else on Thursday.

Background

It's funny the reactions I get now, when I tell people I have livestock. We currently have chickens, ducks, sheep, goats, and a couple of turkeys. (And a horse, but he’s just for decoration.) I get everything from the semi-appalled isn't-that-quaint sneer, to the nostalgic I-used-to-have-those sighs.

I was not born to this life. I was raised in an upper-middle-class home. I attended the best private school in the area and graduated with the brightest young people Ft Worth had to offer. I then went off to college to be properly educated so I could enter the work force and become the productive member of society my parents envisioned. And I have done just that, entered the workforce and moved slowly up the corporate ladder until I got here. I trudge off to the job every day and collect a nice paycheck every 2 weeks. But my heart yearns to be outdoors.

Now, my Dad grew up visiting his Uncle Joe's farm every summer as a child. He was the one who told me decades ago that all horse farms should have chickens because the chickens peck through the horse poop and eat the worms. Recently I saw an article about a novel concept of rotating chickens over livestock pastures to break up the manure and disrupt the parasite's cycle. Go figure, Uncle Joe knew that back in the 30's. I grew up hearing his stories of Uncle Joe and the farm and how his mom would let them play with the chickens that were delivered before she whacked them and fried them up for dinner.

And my Mom is adept at directing the butcher just how to age and cut the meat, but she would really rather not think about where the meat came from before it reached that butcher. It took her months before she was comfortable eating one of my hen's eggs. Apparently an anonymous cloaca is OK, but my lovely Ameraucana Galadriel’s is somehow tainted. It made me giggle at the time, and she has come around.

Growing up I had a horse, and my parents indulged my whims in the equestrian area. But according to my parents, animals are supposed to be a hobby, not a source of income. I have always had the desire to raise animals, but I never had the self confidence to go out and try it.

I am still not all the way there, but I am on the way, and that's better than not.

Gathering the courage to walk away.

When I was teenager, I read a short story by Ursula K. Le Guin titled, "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas." It's the story of a Utopian society. It's beautiful and prosperous and the people are happy and healthy. But there's a dark secret. The beauty and grace and prosperity of the entire city depends solely on the suffering of a single child. Everybody knows it is there. The child MUST live in misery. The terms of the deal are explicit, not even a kind word may be said to the child, but as long as the child is miserable, the city will continue to be beautiful and prosperous.


I remember being upset by the story, but I also realized that everything can't be perfect, that there would always be suffering and misery in our society, so I accepted that. I didn't walk away.


But, then it happened. (Stealing a small excerpt):


"At times one of the adolescent girls or boys who go see the child does not go home to weep or rage, does not, in fact, go home at all. Sometimes also a man or a woman much older falls silent for a day or two, then leaves home. These people go out into the street, and walk down the street alone. They keep walking, and walk straight out of the city of Omelas, through the beautiful gates. They keep walking across the farmlands of Omelas. Each one goes alone, youth or girl, man or woman."


Some time last year, I fell silent. I started thinking about a lot of things we accept as, "Just the way things are." and I decided I didn't like them. I don't like the way commercially raised food animals are treated. I don't like the way we Americans are willing to give up basic rights because they want their neighborhoods to photograph well. I don't like a lot of things. To quote my hippie friends, "I'm mad as Hell and I won't take any more."

It started as a simple desire to have chickens in my backyard and an urge to become more self-reliant. I was appalled by images from commercial egg farms and decided that one small step I could take is to get my eggs from my own flock of hens. Everybody else was doing it, there are articles in the Dallas Morning news about this lady and her little flock of city-chickens. Heck even Martha Stewart was doing it!


However, Benbrook city ordinances and HOA regulations specifically prohibited the keeping of chickens and ducks. Me being me, I figured that stupid laws are meant to be broken so I got them anyway. My direct neighbors were not offended, they thought the chickens were entertaining and enjoyed sharing the fresh eggs.


But, as was bound to happen, someone else in the neighborhood found out about my illegal chicken keeping operation and turned me in to Animal Control. Now I had the city on my case. Over CHICKENS! Really. Chickens that were in my own backyard behind a 6 foot tall wooden privacy fence.


I was already in the ACO's sights because I fostered rescue animals for a 501(c)3 rescue. Benbrook ordinances allow 3 dogs and 2 cats. I had 5 dogs and 2 cats. (Though at one point I had had a houseful of cats but that's another story entirely. Those cats had been re-homed and I was happily at 2 at the time.) But I was getting calls from the city, and notices and it was getting unbearable.

At this point, something inside me snapped. I thought to myself, why would anyone care if I have 5 dogs as long as they are well taken care of? Why should anyone care if I have hens in my backyard, they don't bother anyone. Their cackling is one third the decibels of a poodle yapping. What business is it of theirs? Apparently 'We the People' have set up our cities this way. We have given up our personal freedoms so that our neighbors will not be offended by anything we may want to do.


I figured I had two options. I could fight city hall or I could walk away. The 'For Sale' sign went up the following week.


I have accepted that I can't change the hearts and minds of the ones who want to live in Omelas. But MY heart has changed and now I live on 5 acres in the country that have NO restrictions. BEST MOVE EVER!


Over the next several posts I will cover the steps that got me as far as here, where I hope this little walk will take me, and what I am doing to start the process for Step Two: Walking Away From Corporate America.