A Brief Rant -- America Needs to Vote

This weekend, the Kentucky Governor was hung in effigy, in the front yard of the Governor's Manson, where he and his family are living.

Fortunately, his children weren't home when armed terrorists invaded their private space and stood on the front porch.

Now I'm gonna get on my soapbox, because these terrorists aren't operating in a vacuum. These guys were whipped up a couple weeks ago, by other elected officials. Republican officials, who don't give a damn about saving lives. They are merely more GOP sociopaths drunk on power.

The pattern was set in stone years and years ago, by the likes of Newt Gingrich, and the cancer that has eaten the soul of America has continued unchecked since the creation of Fox News.

Why has this minority, because this emotionally dead contingent IS the minority, been allowed to take power?

Because not enough Americans vote.

Americans, especially those of us in #FlyOverAmerica, need to get off our asses and vote, in every election, every time. We have to take back our cities, towns, hamlets and townships by voting.

If everybody in America voted in every election, we wouldn't have ANY of the problems we have today. Because America isn't a nation of extremists, it's a nation of middle-of-the-road, good people who have forgotten their power is in unity.

OUR power is in the ballot box.

What To Do, Just In Case

How to be more Prepared, without becoming a right-wing nutcase?

Everyone has been affected by The Shutdown. Some of us have been knocked flat on our butts by it, scarcely able to understand what happened. Others are reeling, some drunkenly, just barely keeping their sanity as the world turns upside-down around them.

For some of us, this is another kick in the teeth, another devastating kidney punch that has kicked us off the ladder of 'Success' just as we were getting back on it. No one wants to get caught flat-footed again, but not many people want to become Survival Extremists, either.

What is a rational person gonna do, in case this horrendous virus comes back in the fall? Well, assuming that one is just looking ahead for a return of this pandemic in the fall, let's see what one could do - without going full Doomsday Prepper.

I'm gonna make a few assumptions: this virus will come back in October, my readers have a little bit of money and some room for storage, and are willing to learn to cook.

There's a lot of math involved with this, because everyone's situation is gonna be different. First thing is to read up on portion sizes, and figure out what's gonna work for your situation. Then get a few good recipes for soup, because that's the easiest way to cook several meals using dried foods. Get a crock pot, or some kind of slow cooker and learn to use it.

The easiest foods to put away for 'What If?' are dried foods. Since we are talking about food to buy over the summer, for use this fall and winter, shelf-life shouldn't be an issue. All this stuff will last a year as long as mice and bugs don't get in it. It's all something one could eat over the course of a winter, even if things don't go badly, this food doesn't have to go to waste.

Quick rolled oatmeal for breakfast, two big cans of it, raisins to flavor it, or packets of instant flavored oatmeal. More on that in a minute.

Dried peas, beans, barley, rice, soup starter/mixes, powdered beef and chicken broth, ramen, dried egg noodles, dried milk, dried herbs like bay leaf, basil, oregano, thyme, rosemary, vanilla, and chili powder for dinners. All these need to be in mouse-proof containers, but can be stashed in a tub until needed. I use recycled ice cream containers, and anything else I can get my hands on for this. It doesn't matter what it looks like, slap a label and a date on it, then tuck it into the tub for safekeeping.

Oatmeal in bulk containers needs flavoring. I've found that one packet of cheap instant oatmeal can flavor two cups of plain oatmeal. Just mix it together with water and nuke it according to directions for the bulk oatmeal. The fiber in the oatmeal is good for the digestion, cholesterol, and the carbs are good for energy.

Tissue paper, toilet tissue, laundry detergent, won't fit in a single tub, but pain/fever relieving medication, ant-acids, cold and allergy medicines, whatever your family uses over the course of the winter, will. Just buy an extra generic one, tuck the smaller boxes into the tub with the dried food.

One doesn't have to spend a fortune, just think about it and tuck away an extra bit here and there. I'm assuming money is gonna be tight all summer, so any "prepping" is gonna small scale.

We all know what is in short supply. So this summer pick up an extra one and stash it. Toilet paper, toothpaste, no need to buy a case, just pick up one or two small packages.

I was surprised at the absence of rice in general and brown rice in particular.

We eat a good bit of rice, I keep three or four different rice mixes, so I never thought to stock up on the plain brown rice, because I've got other types in storage. I'm gonna buy a two extra bags for the fall and winter. Just two extra bags, putting it in glass jars and stashing it away. I'm gonna get 5 lbs of white rice, 10 lbs of flour (I bake bread) and 10 lbs of sugar. I will need two large containers, which I don't have at the moment.

The point is to have a extra on hand. However, there's no point in buying things one or one's family won't eat. This is where the extra thought comes in, what and how to cook stuff that the family will eat?

Practice. It's the only way to learn.

Here at Jordan's Croft, I have a pantry. It was the first part of my kitchen that I fell in love with. I keep extras in the pantry. So I have two jars of peanut butter, two jars of jam, four kinds of rice mix, six types of noodles, a case of ramen noodles, an extra bottle of cooking oil, three types of flour, raisins and nuts as well as potatoes, white and sweet, garlic and onions.

We eat a lot of stir-fried foods with either rice or noodles. Years ago I decided that I liked to eat different vegetables stir-fried together instead of just carrots or peas or cabbage. So I just cut up whatever we've got on hand, stir-fry it, put it over either rice or noodles and enjoy.

We really like eating this way. A few staples in the fridge, a bit of rice, some flavorings and dinner!

Anyone can do this. One just needs to find out what works for you and your situation.

How does this work out?

When the store shelves were empty, we still had toilet paper, because there was an extra pack in the guest bathroom. We had everything we needed to make a big pot of beef soup and chicken soup three days later because we had powdered broth, noodles, dried vegetables and herbs, a little bit of beef and a couple chicken thighs stashed in the freezer.

By the the time we were running short, most of the things we really needed were back on the shelves. I needed fresh foods the most, carrots, celery, potatoes, and milk. Frozen vegetables and chicken thighs were enough to keep us eating. We're almost out of oatmeal, but it's back on the shelves, so we are fine. We picked up a small pack of toilet paper one week, and a larger one a week later, never opening the extra pack in the guest bath.

Hope this helps.

Foggy on Christmas morning - 2016

We're expecting snow tomorrow.

The wind is bitter and it finds it's way inside my hood and trickles down my neck.

I bought a bale of straw to cover the strawberries, that just took a couple sections. The rest went into Chicken World to get them out of the mud. (Chickens get frost bite.) I left the open bale, thinking they would scatter it. But as of evening stables, the bale is intact, sitting in the middle of the pen.

The horses were waiting at the door for me as usual. No silly antics tonight, they were serious about getting inside. The geese, Jamie and Cerise were in the alpaca stall with the baby chickens. The alpacas came in on their own, so the geese decided to come out. The baby chickens have their own corner, so they stay in with the alpacas at night.

The horses and the alpacas ate an entire round bale in under a week. I guess there's not much grass, alive or dead, in the pastures. So we'll need to get another round bale before Saturday. Most afternoons, I'll step outside to find all three horses laying down, sleeping in the sun, sometimes the alpacas will be there, two sleeping and one standing watch for the entire mixed herd.
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Busted Wing

I'm making do with a broken finger, but I wanted to update this blog.

Went to the Kentucky Sheep and fiber festival last weekend and brought home a lovely selection of pencil roving. The colors are wonderful, the blend feels like alpaca and I can't wait to get to spinning.

The Things That Own Us

I've been struggling with other people's things lately, and I'm emotionally exhausted from taking care of...you know...stuff.

Things my mother owned. Things my father owned. Things my husband owns.

Even my own stuff has started to run my life. Or maybe ruin my life is a better term. All of it requires maintenance, in some form or fashion.

First off, my mother was a hoarder. A very neat and tidy one, but a hoarder none the less. There are items in her hoard that were made by my grandfather. Tool boxes, wooden stools, tools, what-nots and thing-a-ma-bobs.

There aren't as many things from my grandmother, my aunts divided those items and passed them to their daughters. Which, since I have no human children, and my sister's children were far away at the time, wasn't such a bad idea.

My biological father passed back in 1966 or 1967, but there are items of his in the hoard. One of them is particularly troublesome. It is subject to regulations and tracking down these regulations and figuring out how to comply with them took up my whole weekend.

The damn THING is a pain-in-the-ass!

There is so much bad information on the internet. Even on websites that are supposedly accurate, you never know if you are getting B.S. or the real deal. Inaccurate information from online sources isn't much of a defense when dealing with government regulations.

I decided to contact a supposed expert on this subject, and got harranged by some ignorant twit who didn't understand what I was talking about.

"Ain't no such thang!" The redneck then tried to brow-beat me into bringing this troublesome 'thang' to them. "You's just brang that thang here and I'll show you what you read on that-there website just ain't so!"

My frustration with things in general, estates in particular and MY MOTHER is, on a scale of 1 to 10, somewhere off the chart.

The pressure to get rid of all this stuff, and raise enough money to keep my Dad in the nursing home until Medicaid kicks in, which is AFTER all these things have been sold, combined with my frustration, has done nothing for my piece of mind.

These "thangs" are making me crazy.

Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse #2

The day has arrived!

The long-awaited release of the second book in the Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse has been released!

The series begins with The Emissary - Journey an e-book. Also is just released is The Emissary - Journey in Paperback.

Not all women are helpless Zombie-bait. The daughters of Ken McLeod certainly aren't. Armed with bows and mounted on Spanish mustangs these girls ride like Huns, sweeping across the world in ruins. Bethany McLeod is the Emissary, bringing together the scattered remnants of humanity, in an alliance that might just save the human race. 

Three years after the Zombie Apocalypse, a handful of settlements communicate by ham radio. When the Davidson clan asked for help, clan McLeod answers. Bethany McLeod must take her sisters Alexis, Dani and Julie on the dangerous journey to Fort Chatten, Kentucky to form an alliance with the Davidson clan.  

Alexis McLeod is a healer, eager to prove herself. Led by Bethany, the four sisters risk their lives to help the struggling Davidson clan. Armed to the teeth, the sisters are light cavalry, quiet enough to avoid the walking dead and fast enough to outrun them. 

Militia, marauders and mad-men abound, the dead walk the land, eating everything in their path. Can four women and six horses make the hundred-mile journey to Fort Chatten?
This story is suitable for all ages.

September 15th was the release date for The Emissary - Arrival.

Bethany McLeod, with her sisters Alexis, Dani and Julie, make the dangerous journey to visit the Davidson clan at Fort Chatten, Kentucky to form an alliance. Armed to the teeth, the sisters are light cavalry, quiet enough to avoid the zombies, and fast enough to outrun them. 

They've arrived at Fort Chatten — to find just how dysfunctional the Davidson Clan really is: Livestock is running loose, there's no organization, no crops and no gardens. 

Beth must do what she can to help Alexis fix the problems, but there's only a few days before Beth, Dani and Julie have to return home. 

This story is suitable for all ages.

 The series is meant to be a celebration of the bond between women and horses, as well as a very 'Girl Power' series about the Zombie Apocalypse.

My primary motivation in writing this series is the scene from TV's "Walking Dead" where Rick rides a horse into Atlanta. Man and horse are attacked by Zombies and the horse pretty much just lays down and dies when bitten.

That scene really ticked me off.

I've got three horses, and not one of them would lay down and die if bitten by a Zombie. They would be alerted at the smell and I expect them to either flee or fight the first stinker that bites them.

I know my old mare would kick, scream, fight and strike until she fought her way free. I also know that she will protect me, her very own human, from dogs. So I felt I had to set the record straight.

Throw in the 'Airs Above the Ground' - classical dressage movements invented by the Romans a couple thousand years ago, add a bow and arrow, and you have the equivalent of the Huns who sacked Rome and took over the known world.

The idea was too delicious to make into a short story or even a novel. I had to make it a series. Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse was born.

I hope this series catches on, not just because of the time and effort I put into it, but also because it's about time somebody wrote the Zombie Apocalypse from a feminist point of view.

Recovering From Life and Change

From time to time I've been tempted to blog about my 'wasted youth' in more detail.

It's fun, really, to look back on that time in my life, the early 1980's as long as I don't get too close to the heart of the matter. I was broke, but I managed to look good. I had fun, and I managed to keep from being raped or killed, not all the women who partied at the time, or in the same places, can say the same.

I had a serious drug and alcohol problem then.

What I did about it was so mundane I hardly give it a thought any more - I joined a 12 Step program.

In some ways, that was the answer. However, for the first two years, just surviving the pitfalls of that particular 12 Step program was a bigger challenge than staying alive in the bars. Those Meetings were attended by a lot of old guys who didn't like young girls cluttering up their sobriety with questions. They didn't like drug addicts (some because they were doing drugs and didn't want to be challenged.)

When the Recovery Backlash surfaced with the rising of the Internet, I read a lot of the blogs and silently agreed with a great deal of what the 'AA Bashers' said. The number of sexual predators (of both genders) that I encountered, as still encounter when I'm around Those Meetings, is astounding. The way the program of recovery is used as a weapon against the newcomers is really distressing.

There are some things about Those Meetings that really suck.

But I stuck it out, because I wanted to stay sober. Still do, for that matter. There are some people who welcome me with open arms, others who really hate having me in a meeting with them.

Tough shit. I earned my seat.

But 27 years of Recovery has really changed my mind about the 12 Step fellowships. They are flawed, some of the people in them are really sick, some are dangerous. (Rumor has it that serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer was an AA member in good standing.) However, I've always been able to find people who would pull their heads out of their butts to help me.

There are some wonderful people hiding in Those Meetings. The problem is getting past the crazy and the predatory to find them. It's kinda like a video game, you gotta slay the monsters to get to the treasure.

Maybe everybody wasn't a Robin Williams, but I've found some angels whose wisdom I will cherish and spread every chance I get. There are people with whom I've butted heads in years gone by that I miss deeply. Some are still alive, some are dead.

It is the principles that remain, the 12 Steps are the most useful things I've ever learned. They are the building blocks of my sanity, especially at times like these when my life is chaos.

I'm writing this because I'm at one of those godawful crossroads. I hate them with a passion. But here I stand, with a road ahead, a road behind, one to my left and one to my right. For the life of me, I can't tell which one to take, except that going back looks pretty shitty.

One road down and three to go.

Acceptance may be the answer to all my problems today, but it's where my feet take me in the future that matters. I have goals today, I don't make plans, write plays and expect everyone to act their part. Clowns be clowns, some times the best thing to do is watch the show. But goals are things that keep us going forward in the midst of dark times.

These are dark times.

What I'm doing is taking inventory. Of myself, my books, my life as it stood two months ago when I left Jordan's Croft for Talbot Hill Croft. What I've found is that it's best if I take the inventory now, and allow my Higher Power to provide the guidance I need. That's come when I needed it the most. Though never in the shape I think it will take.

One of my 'paths' is to stop writing and marketing my books. I've spent every spare minute on that since I started down that path. The return on investment has been dismal. I get a lot of satisfaction from the process, and no cash to speak of. However, the process is time-consuming, energy-consuming and I have limited amounts of both right now. I have to make a choice.

I've decided to give it one last crack, but I've put a time limit on it.

My paperback books will become my focus for the next 90 days. At the end of the year, I'll look over the hard data and make some new choices. There will be four paperbacks by then, possibly two more if I finish another Emissary book and convert a collection of my mother's stories to print.

I've found that face-to-face market pays better, when you have paperbacks to sell. The Emissary #1 is on sale now in paperback and The Emissary #2 will be ready by the end of next week. 

I've got a box of each of the books coming this week. I've decided to throw my lot in with a large author's group in my area. I've hesitated to join this group because I'm afraid of the amount of alcohol and drugs that may come with the territory. It is always something I need to be careful of, other people's addictions can reek havoc on my recovery.

I have a plan to expand my publishing efforts, that could turn in to a wrap-up and shut down if need be. I have a plan to go back to work, using my writing and my fiber arts as hobbies. I have a plan that brings my wheelchair-bound father back to Jordan's Croft, but that plan is full of 'what if' and 'maybe if' to the point where I hate to put it forward.

There's another plan, the 'fall-back-and-punt' plan that I DON'T like one bit. It involves selling everything I own and going north again. Not to Ashtabula, but to Cleveland or it's suburbs, or to Louisville even. This could require the sale of my horses and my alpacas, not something I want to think about, but so be it.

Everyone needs a plan of last resort.

There are commonalities these paths. They start out looking the same. Going back to Jordan's Croft for a time. Cleaning out Talbot Hill Croft, no matter what happens with the books. Selling books in September and October, tweeting and marketing limited amounts. Purging my house, barn, shed and porch of everything I don't need.

The next four months will be busy ones. If I'm not blogging here, at Jordan's Fiber Arts or on
Facebook, you'll know why.

Stay well.

My Writing Space for 2014

This is the view of my cluttered porch. Note the dogs watching me as I take this picture. I spend as much time outside as I can. But my red hair and pale complexion don't do well in sun or heat.

My Faithful Canine Companions love it when I use the porch for writing.

The blue book contains "The Emissary: Arrival" and the red book is all the information on the characters and settings. I'm happy to say that Part III is chugging along nicely.

Gosling Story

I'm going to take some pictures tomorrow of the little gosling. I'm pretty sure it's a girl - the 5 drakes are raising her, taking her out every morning and back to the nesting females every evening.

She is surrounded by the drakes, who treat her like a princess. She is the center of their world. There is always one next to her, protecting her like the fragile baby that she is.

Sadly, two more goslings hatched yesterday, but didn't make it through the night. I would have loved to watch them grow up with the same attention and care.

I've got to get photos of this. The problem is that I can't get too close. Our 'food truce' doesn't apply where she's concerned. I get attacked if I get too close.

*****

The little princess vanished two days ago. I don't know what got her, or how it got through her loyal knights.

It's sad.

Grumpy Has a Job!

Meet Grump the Alpaca and Evil Ian the Buff Orphington rooster. Grumpy lost his life-long companion, and I was afraid he would pine away. Oddly enough, Grumpy has taken a shine to the poultry in general and the lovely, but nasty Evil Ian.

The top picture shows Grumpy on guard. My Jack Russel, Trouble has come out to play. You can see Trouble in the second picture. That's Grumpy stamping his foot, warning Trouble to keep his distance, or else.

This is the 'or else' I was talking about. Grumpy targeted the little chicken-chasing dog for a bad stomping. Luckily for Trouble, I was there to protect him. He zipped around me, barking like a big bad dog, but hiding under my feet. 

"Don't worry, little buddy. I'll protect you!"

Trouble was still at my feet in this picture, and Evil Ian was coming in for the kill himself. Once Evil Ian was my favorite. He would sit on my arm and eat from my hand. But by the time this picture was taken, Ian had earned the 'Evil' by attacking me, the dogs, and anyone he could target.

It is great fun to watch the animals interact. That is, as long as Evil Ian didn't attack me. However, there was just one more species that needed to make itself known...

This is Tanamara, the young mare, who is in line to be Queen and doesn't let any of the other animals forget it. The alpacas were the newcomers, so they were the lowest critter on the totem pole. 

The young mare didn't want that fuzzball alpaca to get too close to HER human (that's me). And the old gelding came around to back her up.

Sorry Grumpy, you aren't the Alpha of this herd. This is Mare territory.

Stay tuned! You never know what I'm going to see and what I can get photos of. The animals here have their own world, and a strict pecking order.

Photos of Chicken World

It's freaking cold out there!

I found a couple of critters outside. I can't catch 59. Featherfoot was out, I got him in last night, but he was outside again this morning. I picked him up and put him in the old gelding's stall.

Got a dirty look for that. But I think the old boy has figured that the rooster is ill. Featherfoot hunkered down in a corner looking pitiful. The old gelding kinda rolled his eyes at me.

It's still really cold in Chicken World. I've got the little doors open, hoping 59 will come in. So far no one is going outside.

 This is main roosting area. There are three roosts with a nest box tied to the roost. The hens like this one best.

You can see the slats nailed to the wall. To the right is the alpaca stall. The alpacas watch the chickens as if the chickens were a soap opera.

The orange cools holds 5 gallons of water with drip spouts. That part is frozen right now.

This is a frame to the left. The window is the one I moved inside. The little door might be too narrow for the geese to use, not sure, I reinforced the sides to keep the drafts out.

You can see the ducks taking a look outside. They didn't go out, just stuck their beaks outside for a quick look.

The last photo is the shelf where the nest area used to be and the double rows of nests are going to be soon.

The upper part of the wall is paneled.

 So that's it for now. I've been poking around the barn looking for paneling materials. There's a wheelbarrow full of wood scraps destined for fireplace.

All the animals are snug in the barn.

All we have to do is wait out the weather.

Renovating Chicken World

The last few weeks have been cold, and windy.

I've been unhappy with the fact that Chicken World is bare metal in the inside. It was supposed to have sheets of paneling against the walls to buffer against freezing wind and burning heat. But that didn't come to pass. So, I'm working on it - by cutting up used pallets and nailing the boards to the wall.

There are a lot of ways to reuse pallets. Google opened up a rabbit hole that sucked me inside for several hours.

I'm going to finish up Chicken World before I try to expand our shed using pallets. (hehehehehehehe!) Seriously, this is a very slow progressing project. The pallets have to be taken apart - not easy! Although, we did buy a crowbar/wrecking bar/nail puller and a rubber mallet, to make it a bit easier.

Still, it take raw muscle to pry the slats off the pallet. Then there are the nails - dozens of nails that can't be allowed to escape. I've got a huge plastic jar about 1/3 full of nails already.

Anyways - I'm putting new nest boxes up, and making more roosting space. Alot more roosting space. Then, if I can figure out a way to do it with a sprayer, I want to whitewash the walls.

What I've got done, so far, is a partial take down of the old nest area, and one half of one wall completed. It's been SO slow, I'm dismantling, because I want to re-use the wood and the screws. This will be the 3rd go-round for some of these materials. Nothing like recycling - saves me a buncha money.

The top third of the wall takes about 33" slats. I've got some that were already painted white, they look like siding. They are going by the window, to reflect the light. The thickest boards are going where I'm putting up nest boxes and roosts.

The center third and lower third will require 24" slats. These won't need to hold any weight, so they can be thin. I've got a few center boards in place. These slats seem to make the most difference in the temperature of the air. I think it might be because I use a deep litter - enough to heat up. Heat rises.

The window was on the outside - a couple of chickens banged into it, nearly knocking it down. It leaked air instead of keeping the wind out after that. I've tried a couple of times to put it right. Until I finally took it completely down and put it inside, I couldn't get it secure.

Now, there are just little gaps around the window - can't put a finger between it and wall any more! Of course this means that the hole outside the wall needs to have some kind of framing. Don't know what yet, but I'm working on it.

The goal is to moderate the winter temperature - so cold snaps don't stop the eggs from hatching. We'll have to see how that works out. So far the window made the most difference. I'm looking forward to moving the roosts and the nest boxes. I think I can predict where the ducks will lay and where the hens will lay. The geese will lay on the ground...need to leave space for them!

Stay tuned!

Rain, Fall and Updates

We're having a light rainfall today. This is the tail end of summer, just a few days before the seasons change. The chickens are loose in the yard, the horses in their stalls and the geese complaining idly in their newly mown pen.

The next major project for the fall is to finish mowing the weeds down in the pasture. I'm halfway there! I got my big Cub Cadet back from the repair shop last Tuesday and have been running it a bit every day. It took two days just to get the lawn mowed - the grass was really high.

I usually mow the pasture in quarters. One section a week, keeps the weeds down but lets the grass grow. But since the lawn mower was down for a month, I had to do half this week.

I'm pleased to report success with the fertilizer and seed project. What I do is clean stalls, putting the manure into the spreader, then sprinkle grass seed and wood ashes (if I've got some) on top. Spreading the manure takes care of clean up, fertilizer and seeding in one motion.

If you've ever heard the saying 'give a kid a hammer and the world turns into a nail' then you've got the fertilizer idea. EVERYTHING turns into fertilizer: the shavings, wood ashes, the hay, the grain, the straw and the chicken bedding. The result is fewer weeds and more grass.

The parts of the pasture that were three feet tall weeds are now only a foot or two tall and there's grass between the weeds. As long as the weeds are down, the hens will graze, dig piles of horse manure for bugs and eat grasshoppers.

On the subject of chickens, I've been thinking of complying an e-book entitled '#Chicken Fail' to chronicle my lousy attempts at chicken keeping. The only thing holding me back was a limited amount of success this year.

I say limited because I still have the majority of the chickens I bought this spring. Three pairs of geese, the ones I kept are doing very well. I just sold 2 pairs to a friend of mine. She lost the first pair I sold her to a raccoon.

Let me start from the beginning.

This spring I bought large numbers of to add to my poultry flocks. I bought 12 Golden Comets, a hybrid laying hen, 6 Buff Orpingtons, a dozen goslings, 6 males, 6 females, and 24 assorted Muscovy ducklings.

Most of my laying flock of 8 hens was already 2 years old. This is not good. Chickens can live for several years, but usually don't. I swear the silly things are born looking for a way to die. They seem to succeed more often than not.

I also had 4 roosters, 2 Buff Brahmas (Dad named them Mo and Jo) and 2 Dominiques, born here, Mickey Finn, and Spike. Mo drowned last week in the water trough, chickens don't swim.

The hens don't have names, because there are too many of them. But each has a numbered band so I can tell them apart. My oldest hen is #25, a Rhode Island Red I bought at the flea market after I lost my flock of Barred Rocks and Dominiques to a predator, possibly a raccoon.

In 2011, Mickey Finn was the spare rooster. Hatched here to a Barred Rock hen and a Dominique rooster, he and 2 sister hens survived the carnage because they were babies born late in the year so were kept in the tack room.

Now he's the head rooster, and his 2 sisters are #23 and #24. This bunch produced 2 roosters and a pullet who were raised by one of the sisters. I never got close enough to figure out which one. She was 'attack on sight' likely due to the rats.

About two weeks ago, a duck hatched 2 more chicks. I think they're a rooster and a pullet. A week later, she hatched a dozen ducklings. Of those, 6 vanished in one night. I suspect rats. I took the rest from her, and am raising them in a kiddie pool with the chickens and a couple of rat-wounded ducklings.

The sides of the pool curve over, so the rats can't climb the sides. As long as I can keep them inside that, they'll be okay.

Somehow, I'm going to have to get rid of the rats. Poison comes to mind, of course, but the last time I put down poison I nearly killed one of my barn cats. So poison isn't on my list of alternatives at the moment.

I'm pondering how to run a War On Rats. Snap traps might work for a few of them. I've thought of putting the dogs out in the barn for a few nights. It might be best to simply put the geese back into Chicken World. They are more than a match for a rat.

That's all for now.

Stay tuned.

Solar Clothes Dryer Controversy

What a hot, dry, breezy, day this is. While it's not a good time to do much of anything outside, it is a perfect day to use a solar clothes drier. This will save me some money because electric clothes dryers are power hogs.

A Department of Energy report estimated "electric clothes dryers accounted for about 5.8% of total electricity usage in U.S. homes -- a startling figure given that the same report said all indoor and outdoor lighting in American homes constitutes only 8.8% of electricity usage. Plus, the 5.8% attributed to dryers does not include electricity needed to power the motors of gas-heated dryers."

We don't have a really high electric bill - but it's 102f in the shade out there. Why heat the house?

Luckily, I live in a place where it isn't illegal to own/use one because it is a very handy device, quick and quiet. I can load it down with two washer loads of clothes and they dry in no time. If I'd been in a laundromat I'd have to pay a buck or more a load.

There are various configurations. Setting one up can take some time and ingenuity and quality replacement parts can be tricky to find. But the money I save justifies the initial investment. I've had to rebuild this one - and if the cords give out it's going to be a bear to replace them.

These simple devices are scorned, called ugly and unsightly, then made illegal to own or operate. Either people just don't understand this technology or they have some kind of underwear phobia. (I suspect the latter.)

It's hard to believe that this incredible invention is illegal in parts of the country. (Want to see an example? Click here.) Yep, try to use one in a sub-division and see what happens. You'll have the owners association breathing down your neck the minute you set it up. Your neighbor could call the police and have you arrested!

British film producer Steven Lake to make "Drying for Freedom," a documentary on line-drying in the U.S. because he was outraged that something so simple was outlawed in so many areas.

"The matter of wasted energy is something that draws my attention to this topic," he said. "But mostly it's the fact that in America, which to the rest of the world is considered to be the land of the free, citizens are banned from something as simple and silly as hanging out their washing."

If that sounds boring here's a quick quote: "We're including feuding neighbors in Mississippi where one man purportedly shot and killed another due to a dispute over a washing line. He didn't want to see the laundry from his window."

I guess that proves a point - doesn't it? We live in a strange society that can't tolerate something as basic as hanging some towels over the porch rail to dry? I guess if you want to live in a 'beige on beige gated community' then conformity is a much. But that's not where I live, or how I want to live.

My solar clothes dryer is old, but the Rotary configuration is compact and safer than the straight single line model. Four poles hold two dozen lines, so I've got room for queen-sized sheets and plenty of clothes. In this weather - the wind and the sun dry and disinfect my clothes in about an hour - free.

I like free.

Rand Paul & GOP #Think-Fail

I got another of those infuriating Emails from the GOP today. So I'm replying to it

 here on my blog.

Senator Rand Paul -

Your utter lack of compassion for women and family issues infuriates intelligent women.

You would gladly spread lies and propaganda instead of facing the historical facts of 'back-alley' abortions and the deaths and misery caused by illegal abortions instead of promoting FREE BIRTH CONTROL that would end the need for abortions. (And cost a lot less.)

Like the rest of the GOP you would rather create divisions with propaganda instead of creating solutions that would benefit the State you represent.

I detest the GOP War on Women. It will NOT gain any political power for anyone who perpetrates it - instead I expect to see many 1 term Senators and Representatives.

If you expect to gain re-election I suggest you moderate your position on Women's Rights. More than half the US population is female - they vote more frequently than men and are more likely to vote Independent or for the best candidate.

Kathleen Jordan - Voter and Democrat

 

This is an excerpt from the Office of Rand Paul - who sits next to Mitch McConnell. I'm ashamed to say these two blithering idiots represent the beautiful state of Kentucky where I make my home. 

Neither one appears to comprehend the difficulties that women face every day - married or single and especially not the special needs of single parents of either gender. Both appear to be as racist as they are sexist and anti-family.

When I see them on TV, I cringe.

"Now the time to grovel before the Supreme Court is over.... (UNLESS they rule against Health Insurance Reform then the GOP will grovel nicely.)

Working from what the Supreme Court ruled in Roe v. Wade, pro-life lawmakers can pass a Life at Conception Act and end abortion using the Constitution instead of amending it...
If you and other pro-life activists pour on enough pressure, pro-lifers can force politicians from both parties who were elected on pro-life platforms to make good on their promises and ultimately win passage of this bill.

But even if a Life at Conception Act doesn't pass immediately, the public attention will send another crew of radical abortionists down to defeat in the next election.

(Why stop there? Why not say that life begins with sperm? There is a bill that would make 'self-abuse' murder. I must say, it would be interesting to see it enforced since much of what Congress does is mental masturbation.)

 I know - getting my knickers in a twist over these things doesn't do me any good. But just as I had to file an FCC complaint against Rush Lumbaugh - I can't stop myself from firing back at GOP idiots. 

The GOP (Grand Old Patriarchs) haven't a clue about what it means to be middle-class and female. I have nothing but compassion for a woman whose choice of birth control has failed and is facing that terrible choice. I've seen the tears and the agonizing that women go through when they face an un-expected pregnancy.

But not only is the GOP trying to make abortion illegal - they are also trying to make ALL birth-control illegal. Which makes NO SENSE at all. This planet is already staggering under the load of over-population and exploitation of resources.

This is the WORST time in the world for a woman to be forced to have a child she can't afford to take care of. All social services in the safety net have been gutted already. We KNOW what the GOP thinks of 'welfare mothers' even as they force more women onto welfare by their short-sighted refusal to pass economic stimulus packages that might just get women back in the workforce.

This is one huge '#Think-Fail' on the part of politicians. 

Unfortunately - I don't think Senator Rand Paul is capable of anything else.

I Have a Brown Thumb

Spring 2010 - The day after I planted. It looks great, but won't last very long.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, I had a green thumb.

I don't know what happened to it. All I know is that I don't have one anymore.

I miss having a green thumb.

I have two nice porches, one in the front and one in the back. The front one is where I do a lot of writing in the spring and for part of the summer. The front porch is about 35 feet long and 8 feet wide. It faces north east, catches some morning sun and is in shade the rest of the day. It's a perfect summer porch.

The logical thing to have in such a large, shady space is lots and lots of flowers. You know, fragrant herbs, trailing plants, big blooms in vibrant colors and plants that attract humming birds, butterflies and assorted cuteness. Big pots, little pots, window boxes and converted containers over-flowing with endless flowers, just like in all the garden magazines.

Only in my dreams, I'm ashamed to say.

Every year I start with high hopes. This year I'm going to be good and water every day. So, I buy a bunch of plants, potting soil and so forth, always with the very best of intentions.

Every year, I kill a bunch of plants. Last year, I even killed a bunch of Aloe Vera – a relative of the cactus.

I'm a hopeless brown thumb with a porch lined with pathetic pots of stunted, wilted, colorless weeds.

When we moved in, we had a deck that baked from morning until after noon. The only shade was an umbrella over a table. I spent very little time on the deck – complained that we needed a roof over it to make it a porch. It took a couple of years, but we got the roof. It made a difference on the entire house, an unexpected plus. I immediately moved outside, started putting up plants…and killing them.

At first I blamed it on no water spigot up front. I had to carry water from the house, so of course I lost a few (dozen) plants. So the next year I got a water barrel. It gave me more confidence, but it became a brothel for mosquitoes. I dropped a couple goldfish in the barrel, which took care of the mosquito brothel.

The plants still died – because I couldn't remember to water them every day.

After years as a plant serial killer, I was going to give up, put in silk flowers and dare the neighbors to notice.

Instead, I made a small investment.

More about that later – I've got to track down my camera.

"Tempest in a Teapot" - Excerpt

I decided to post this because it may not make it into the final draft of 'Tempest in a Teapot.'

Until then I thought my readers might like to get another glimpse of the new book. "Tempest" takes place at Fort Knox and in Vine Grove. This scene has Tag McTaggart from 'Let's Do Lunch' and Leo Stephenson from "Tempest" in the Warriors Transition Unit on Fort Knox.

This is the old barracks building - not the new one which is more like a hospital.

_______________________

June 29^{th, 2006}

There was a knock at his door just as Leo was getting out of the shower.

"Sergeant Stephenson?"

"Come in," Leo said as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

"We need you down to the ward." The solider stuck his head in the room, using the door as a prop for his shoulder, crutches clutched in the other hand. "Things went to shit this morning, it ain't getting better. Boomer said I should come get you."

Sergeant Bonner called 'Boomer' was a Sergeant Major. He ranked everyone in the Unit including Leo. He was the unofficial commander of the Unit – but he'd lost both legs and wasn't mobile. 

"What happened?"

"There was a shooting in E'town yesterday. It was one of the Out Patient men. Dr. Lakhdar had MPs bring him back here. First she said it was for evaluation, now she says she's going to have him locked up for murdering a civilian."

"Who? You know him?"

"It's Sergeant McTaggart," the young solider hopped on one foot to keep his balance. "He's pissed as hell, says it's a bullshit charge."

"Fuckin' aye." Leo had to put on a uniform if he was going to do McTaggart any good. He had to look the part in order to play the game.

Leo knew McTaggart had a bad attitude when it came to Lankhdar. He'd shit-canned all his meds and gone back to work, defying all the odds; he even had a girlfriend. The younger soldiers looked up to him.

Dr. Lakhdar was in rare form, he thought as he walked down the corridor. Three former Spec Ops soldiers were slinking out to smoke like feral cats. They didn't meet his eyes as they went passed.

Damn Fish-eye was making them all into pussies.

"There is nothing fucking wrong with me. Let me out of here!" The man's voice would have carried across a parade ground. 

"You just murdered a civilian!" Fish-eye shouted. "You cannot leave this ward!"

"It was a hostage situation – he had a knife to her throat. What was I suppose to do? Let her die? Those cops were too scared to make the shot. So I did."

"Going Rambo on Main Street is not acceptable!"

Even Leo had to grin at that.

"It was necessary! Ask the cops! Ask the DEA! I don't care who you talk to! Get the story straight and let me out of here."

"You're out of line, Sergeant!"

Leo thumped his cane at the doorway.

"Can you repeat that a little louder, for anyone in unit who didn't hear it?"

Dr. Lakhdar turned and glared at Leo. She was a tall thin woman of Middle Eastern descent. She wore her hair up, but covered it with a fine black net. She always had her hair covered, even though it was against regulations. Everyone knew she was a Muslim – the brass tip-toed around her because she hit too many hot-buttons. A man would have gotten hell for the way she treated the men, but she wasn't a man.

"I warn you, Sergeant Stephenson, you're a patient in this ward."

Leo bared his teeth. He was going to enjoy this.

"Tell it to my CO – he'll be interested to know you're yanking civilians off the streets. Taking hostages is against Army policy."

"McTaggart killed a civilian."

Leo raised an eyebrow at McTaggart, who was standing at attention, even though he'd been out of uniform for months.

A young woman in uniform walked in, saluted smartly.

"The charts you requested require your signature, ma'am."

"What?" Dr. Lakhdar turned to McTaggart. "Stay right here."

The young woman paused before she followed. She winked at Leo before she turned smartly and followed Dr. Lakhdar. The woman deserved a medal.

"What happened, McTaggart?" Leo walked into the room. The tall man in civilian clothing shifted to at-ease. An amputee with severe PTSD, Dr. Lakhdar called McTaggart 'a hard case' for his attitude. He came in once a week for the Open Group, the Group that Fish-eye didn't attend. Like Leo, he was book-shelved – he would be leaving the Army but his paperwork wouldn't go through until he was discharged.

Until a few weeks ago, McTaggart had refused to shave or cut his hair. Now he was clean-shaven, wearing his hair close to military length. There was no doped up haze in his hard eyes. He was royally pissed off.

He had the right to be pissed off.

"Report, McTaggart."

"The DEA fucked up a drug bust at Lynn's restaurant. When I got there, the cook had a knife to Lynn's throat, threatening to kill her. The cops wouldn't take the goddamn head shot." He was tense, ready to explode.

"So you did?"

"Hell yes!"

"How did you get a weapon?" Leo asked. He wouldn't be surprised if McTaggart used force to get the gun. Everyone knew how much that girl meant to McTaggart.

"A DEA agent gave me his backup." McTaggart shrugged. "It was close range."

"Good shot."

"The cops thanked me for it, but Dr. Lakhdar had the MP's come get me." He glanced at the door. "How fucked up is that?"

"Is your girl all right?" Leo leaned on the back of a chair.

"Shallow cut to the throat, just skin. Last time I saw her, she was with her parents." Tag scowled. "I should be with her."

"Roger that."

"I hate being treated like this!" Tag clenched his fists and his whole body tightened. He pulled back a fist to punch the wall. He let fly with all his weight behind it.

Leo took the blow in the palm of his open hand. The meaty smack of knuckle against palm echoed, but he ignored the pain.

"Chill. Broken fingers will only prove her right."

"I gotta get the fuck out of here!"

"She's playing you," Leo dropped his voice to a low growl. "Don't let her win."

"Fuck the bitch."

"Don't fall for her shit." He kept eye contact until McTaggart nodded, then he released McTaggart's fist.

"Just chill awhile." Leo picked up his cane. "I can make some phone calls."

Going back to work had changed McTaggart. A shave and a haircut told them that he'd met a girl. They dogged him into taking her out on a date. The group gained strength watching McTaggart put his life back together. It was a no-brainer why he'd killed a man to protect his girlfriend, any of these men would have done the same. If Fish-eye locked McTaggart up moral in the entire Unit would drop through the floor.

Leo made his cell phone calls outside, where no one in the Unit could hear him. He told key people McTaggart was sane, just worried sick about his girlfriend. It was up to the other's to do their part.

Less than an hour from his last phone call - Leo's blackberry chirped with a text message. General Fischer sent a terse summons 'butt hut 1400."

His teeth flashed, aw, too bad, he would miss group. Well he couldn't blow off a one-star general. Fish-eye couldn't argue with that – General Fischer was her CO.

Leo was chewing a Bic because he was out of cigarettes again as he crossed the street to the smoker's hut near the General's Office.

Fischer was sitting on the table, smoking. His dark-chocolate complexion gave little away, his sunglasses hid his eyes, but the tension in his body spoke volumes.

"What's going on, Sergeant?"

"Lankdar pulled one of the guys, a civilian, back into the unit."

 "For?"

"Said he went Rambo on Main Street, sir."

"Which one?"

"McTaggart."

Fischer swore.

"He had a good reason," Leo explained. "There was a drug bust. His girl was taken hostage. He shot the insurgent."

"On goddamn Main Street?"

"Yep."

Leo chewed the pen in silence.

 Fischer swore again. Then he looked at Leo with piercing eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"Here," he tossed the pack to Leo. "You're wasting a good pen."

Leo grinned, stuck the pen behind his ear. He lit up, took a good hard hit, felt the rush of the first cigarette of the day.

"Thank you, sir." He started to toss the pack back.

"Keep 'em," Fischer said. "You're to keep me informed."

Leo nodded.

"There is another matter we need to discuss." He growled, taking off his sunglasses. "Why the fuck are you driving under the influence and causing accidents?"

Leo braced to take the ass-chewing. He had it coming.

"There's no excuse for my behavior, sir."

"That's not my point. What-the-fuck is going on here?" Fischer stabbed the air with his cigarette. "McTaggart is shooting civilians and you are DUI and causing traffic accidents.

"Are you falling apart on me, Stephenson?"

Leo said nothing.

"At ease, for godsake." Fischer grumbled. "Don't waste the smoke, damn things are expensive."

"What the fuck is going on in my Unit?"

Fischer looked at Leo with narrow eyes.

"Don't bullshit me, Sergeant. I've seen you out of uniform, not shaved, sloppy dress – you don't even shine your goddamn boots." He gestured again. "Today is the first time I've seen you look like a soldier."

"I'm being doped into submission, sir."

"Doped?"

"I'm not the only one, sir."

"How many meds are you on?"

"Ten, sir."

"What are they?"

"No idea, sir."

"Find out." Fischer stepped back, took a drag off his cigarette. "No, I will." He studied Leo for a moment.

"Jackson saw you pull in front of an SUV. He thought you were dead."

"Mrs. Truesdale has good reflexes, sir."

Fischer smoked in silence for a moment.

"What the fuck is going on in my Unit?"

"There is tension between the men and the staff, sir."

"That doesn't explain McTaggart." Fischer rubbed the ember from the butt then stepped on it. "Shooting a civilian gives the Unit a black eye. We look bad to the public and it fucks up my day with paperwork."

"It was a hostage situation. McTaggart was given the weapon by the DEA." Leo's teeth flashed. "They didn't have the stomach for the shot, sir."

Fischer grunted agreement.

"I will look into this." He put his sunglasses back on. "I need you, Stephenson. Don't let me down."

"No, sir."

"Dismissed." Fischer walked away.

"Christ in a fucking cornfield."

Leo took a deep drag on the cigarette. He wanted a drink. Instead, he walked to his SUV, a bike ride would be better.

 'Let's Do Lunch' Discarded Scene

Tempest In A Teapot