Tuesday Update – Writer vs. Sunshine

The woods behind our home are carpeted in Pacific bleeding hearts. It’s much lovelier in person!

These non-stop blue skies are going to ruin the northwest girl. My expectations are being compromised. This may be the first spring that I am longing for rain instead of my usual longing for sunshine!

It is hard to do things indoors when the weather is so fine. Fortunately, there is a lot of work to do outside, too. 

Writing Updates:

I have been sinking deeper into a big writing project. That’s right, The Ragman. Blue, Indigo, and the Ragman himself are becoming most insistent about their story being told. Thus, I must oblige!

What does this mean? My short story output and submissions have nearly come to a full halt. I’m even having a bit of trouble focusing on my regular nonfiction essays. Having trouble, but still managing to soldier on a bit!

If you need something to read, I put out an argument against clock-watching, with the help of the neighborhood dads (the jovial cock-robins). You can read Living Life On Robin Time, free of charge, on Medium.

The newsletter has been a tough nut to crack, but I still have this feeling in my bones that it is time to write one. You can read, once again free of charge, about my struggles with the newsletter, Substack, and (un)social media expectations. Read it here: I Don’t Know What I’m Doing On Substack, and I’m Cool With That.

Reading Updates:

Much of my reading is still taken up with that required for class. In that vein, I read an assortment of Phillis Wheatley-Peters’ poems, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and part of the Decameron.

For pure entertainment, I finished Tress by Brandon Sanderson. This was my intro to Sanderson’s writing, and I must say I will be back for more! I loved the style, particularly of the narrator. It reminded me of the non-Xanth works of Piers Anthony, as well as the Princess Bride, but it was still a perfectly unique work that didn’t feel like it was aspiring to be anything but itself. 

Survive & Thrive:

Mowse the kei truck is still in the shop. No word back yet on whether he can be repaired. Fingers crossed, because I would love to begin acting upon the idea I mentioned in last week’s update. 

As for surviving and thriving around here, we are doing our best. We spent the weekend building a sunshade for our deck. The goal was to spend no money, and we achieved it! We built it from old lumber (we always stop to pick up lumber, whether it is from a free pile on the curb or lumber that has dropped off along the roadside from a poorly secured load). We did need one piece that we didn’t have, but a neighbor came through for us with just what we needed! I will spend the morning today painting the sunshade frame with leftover paint from past projects.

It’s also the week to put in the garden, so I will be busy between writing, school, and other tasks. Growing your own food, free of the industrial system, is a radical and revolutionary act, so I will find a way to get to it all!

Go forth in hope, my friends,

Tuesday Update: Mobile Creative Third Space Dreams

(Not Mowse, but similar) Photo by Julia Volk on Pexels.com

We had our first unbroken week of fine spring weather here in the perpetually damp Northwest. For those not privy to the PNW mindset, lots of sunlight makes us a bit crazy. We know that it will never last, so we run outside to soak up as much of it as possible.

Here on the little homestead, this meant lots of weeding and outdoor projects. We managed to sand down and repaint our entire deck, as well. This, of course, meant we had to host a bonfire and cookout. We also attended a bonfire that friends hosted. 

Why yes, I do smell perpetually like a campfire. Why do you ask?

It also means that I am behind on my usual writing output. Life is lived, and sometimes the living of it leaves little time for writing about it!

Writing Updates:

Some work was put in on the novel project (working title “Ragman”). I’m still playing around with characters and plot, so most of this work went towards character development, but I also wrote a few sample scenes so that I could start to get a better feel for how all the pieces will work together. 

I’ve outlined and begun a few essays, which will be hitting Medium and Substack next week.

Reading Updates:

Spending time working outside also means I slowed down on reading a bit this week. 

I am still working my way through “Tress” and “The Future Is Degrowth.

I also finished “The Way Home” by Mark Boyle. I reread this book every six months or so. It’s a comfort tool at this point. It is also an inspiration, because although I don’t want to live exactly like Mark, I do wish to emulate many of his choices in my own  ways. This is Mark’s last public work, which he wrote in a note with a pencil after he decided to follow a life without wasteful modern tech. He contrasts his journey against the Blasket Islanders, a group of people in Ireland that lived cut off from the modern world in many ways until they were forced to evacuate their homes in the 1950s. I consider this book one of the great inspirational works in my life, so of course I recommend it!

Survive & Thrive:

It’s hard not to thrive when the sun is dealing out photons like candy. Vitamin D is my favorite drug!

My thoughts have turned towards finding more ways to cope within the confines of a capitalistic system that doesn’t value, well, anything of true worth. Unfortunately, the system is set up in such a way that fully eschewing it and remaining part of community is difficult. So, I constantly seek ways to live between the lines of capitalism and to thrive within its margins. 

I’m playing with a brainstorm right now. I have a little Japanese Kei truck named Mowse. This used to be my work truck when I was gardening, but the economy and my failing rotator cuff is only going to allow me to work for a couple of regular clients going forward. 

What to do with Mowse?

I’m still noodling, but here is my idea. What if Mowse stands for Mobile Outreach Wonder SpacE? And, what if this mobile space showed up at local parks or other public areas, similar to an ice cream truck. But, instead of ice cream, what if this space set up an arts and crafts table, where kids and adults could come and create something beautiful and happy, together? What if this space was actually a mobile third space, free of charge, for people to gather and create an impromptu (and, even, perhaps, a lasting) community?

Yes? Yes!

We’ll make books from recycled items, share poetry, have music jams, create art from what is available, read stories to young and the young at heart, and teach the kids and the kids at heart new ways to make, well, anything!

Maybe we’ll add some display racks to the back of Mowse. Sell some art and writing, but not really sell. Suggested price, sure, but I imagine a “pay what you can” model, especially since most of our creations in this household take time but very little money since we scavenge nearly everything we have. I’m not aiming to make money, so much as making sure we can continue to provide art and words and craft and community to everyone!

Things are hard out there. We gotta make it better. 

As always, go forth in hope!

Good Food Sometimes Means Doing Hard Things

The Homespun Foodie’s week in review, Nov 30-Dec 6

Winter often drives me indoors more frequently, which in turn means I spend more time in the kitchen. This is an odd December, though. Although I still find myself in the kitchen most days, it is at the comfort of my desk with a pen and paper in front of me, instead of before the stove and dusted with flour.

In other words, cooking has been a chore rather than a delight. An odd December indeed.

It is easy to compromise our goals and our plans, to literally go for broke, when the body and mind rebel against what must be done. It is easy to frame poor decisions as giving oneself grace or as self-care.

Compromising values, giving up on goals, and taking the easy way is not self-care, no matter what your influencer-guru tells you. Hurting your future self is never self-care. To throw away money — and the life energy we spend acquiring it — on food choices that go against our values and drain our wallets is not self-care. 

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Localize Your Feed and Free Your Mind

Less News is good news

The alarm goes off, and I grope for my phone in the dark. As soon as I silence the auditory noise, I begin filling my eyes with visual noise. The daily scroll has begun. I cycle through headlines on the news feed, helpfully curated by algorithms that no human hand controls.

When that becomes too much, I flip over to social media and begin reading the headlines and hot takes regurgitated by a million countless cogs in a machine that is imprisoning us all. By the time I roll out of bed an hour later, my brain is filled with rot I can’t control, and I have lost all faith in not just humanity, but my own future.

This isn’t some dystopian fantasy; this is the reality for millions, if not billions, of people around the world. The good news is that it doesn’t have to be.

The 24-hour news cycle has created a trap that leads to personal paralysis. If everything is so screwed, then why bother? If you still have the energy to bother, to try to effect change, then where to start? For too many of us, where we start and where we end is by banging angrily on a keyboard. Adding to the noise, but not creating anything of substance. Certainly not creating any solutions.

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Go Outside Every Damn Day

It’s not a choice, it’s an imperative

What do rain, sun, and snow have in common? If you said they are all types of weather, then you are only half right. The full answer is that they are all great types of weather for being outside.

That’s right, rain and snow can be just as lovely as sunshine.

Not the outdoorsy type? Who cares. Is it raining? So what. You have an overriding fear of moths? Grow up.

I’m not saying this to be unkind. I’m saying this because the kindest thing I can do is to tell you to go outside nearly every damn day. This isn’t about some study making the daily news rounds, although there are more than a few of those. It’s not even about vitamin D. Well, not entirely.

It’s about humility, awe, and being true to your most primal inner human nature.

It’s about being fully alive.

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I Am Not Special

These four words will save your life

Chances are, if your life was anything like mine, you were told by someone at some point that you were special. Usually, it’s a parent, grandparent, or other adult who first says something like this to a child. Sometimes it’s a teacher. Sometimes it is twaddle from an esteem-building children’s story.

“You’re special. You can do anything you want.”

“You can be anything you like when you grow up, because you are special!”

“Don’t worry about what that bully said; they are just jealous because you are so special.”

“You aren’t like the other girls (or guys), you’re special.”

However it is worded, it somehow seeps into our psyche. The world is comprised of special individuals like us, and then there is everyone else. For some reason, we never stop to consider that everyone is walking around feeling special.

Everyone thinks they are the main character. Yet, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that none of us is the main character. Main characters live happily or unhappily ever after. All of us die at the end of our story.

No ever after.

Nada.

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Tight Belts, Full Bellies

The Homespun Foodie’s week in review, Nov 16–22

Although it is both physically and figuratively impossible for one to pull oneself up by one’s own bootstraps, it is possible to tighten one’s belt. Whether that is a good thing depends upon the individual’s need, of course. In general, though, it does all of us a bit of good to tighten our belts periodically — whether necessary or not.

When life becomes too easy for humans, we begin doing stupid things — like running monopolies, hanging out on private torture islands, and engaging in senseless cruelty against the underprivileged. I know I don’t want to begin on that path.

For many in the US, the end of November is the theoretical release of said belt, allowing it to stretch to its utmost as we stuff ourselves with good food and cheer (and, for some, a lot of shopping). Of course, this loosening of the belts often continues into December. This is why so many of us wake up on January first feeling desolate, indebted, and afraid. For the fortunate, there are credit card bills to deal with. For the less fortunate, being short on rent or another important bill may be their lot.

Well, let’s say balderdash to that! 

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Living within Your Time and Money Means

The Homespun Foodie’s week in review, Nov 9–15

We are in a lull right now, here at the always cozy Sequoia Cottage. It is a financial lull, as our income continues to hover at its lowest since 2009, and a time lull, as few outside responsibilities are tugging at me.

Having little money but plenty of time is preferred over having little money and little time, of course. With time, we can invest in those actions that make the most of small means. Whether unfortunate or not, our time will soon be in high demand, but there is no guarantee that our income will rise with it.

All is well and all will be well, though, for we are experienced at living large on little — whether that little be time or money!

One way to control working-class folk is to make their survival all-consuming. The workers can’t organize for better pay and improved conditions, for example, if their waking hours are booked full with scrambling for a few meager crusts to make ends meet. Without time, who has the energy to trace their difficulties to the feet of the elite, or to change something about it if they do?

Money-deprived folk with time revolt; money- and time-deprived folk simply struggle to survive.

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Taking the Time to Live a Longer Life

Musings from the bus stop.

The journey begins pleasantly enough. I walk down the lane, leaves crunching underfoot. First I crunch through a collection of maple leaves which are satisfyingly crispy even after yesterday’s drizzle.

Next, my feet wade into a sea of yellow heart-shaped leaves. It is the cottonwoods, whose pleasant fragrance reaches me before I see the first impossibly tall trunk. Looking up, I realize our lane winds through a copse of these giant grandmother cottonwoods. Large and wise they tower above. I have driven this lane a thousand times and never noticed them dancing alongside the pavement, ensconced as I was in an aluminum, plastic, and steel cage.

I am disappointed in myself, but also thrilled to have finally made their discovery.

Bright leaves dot the blacktop at my feet like colorful autumnal confetti. I take it all in, my head turning this way and that in an impossible effort to synthesize it all into my being.

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I Paint My Poverty In Beauty

By doing so, we become rich

I am grateful to love old things. Corners worn smooth through years of love and use. Patches and mending threads give proof of adoration to well-worn garments. Repairs and mending are nothing more nor less than a bandage on a loved one’s knee, a kiss and a promise that all will be well again soon.

Old things, like you and I, are perfect in their imperfection.

All I can do is imagine the dissatisfaction and unhappiness for those that depend on the new and shiny, the unobtainably trendy, to bring them joy. Especially when their income is as paltry as ours. It must be painful to covet clean lines, Pottery Barn dreams, and the plastic haberdashery of the finest modern design.

Loving old things lends us the privilege of genteel poverty. Castoffs from a century ago, sometimes less and sometimes more, feel luxurious compared to particle board knock-offs of modern designs.

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