The Dangers of Romance

Whether as a means of inspiration, or a sense of some manner of purpose, it can be tempting to romanticize the lives of our forebears. Of this folly, I find women, in particular, are often guilty. We use romantic versions of nearly every lifestyle choice to bolster our spirits and convince us that we're doing the right thing, whether that thing is conquering a board room , raising a family or, perhaps most often, being a housewife.

What's the harm, one might ask. On the surface, there is no harm at all. It's good to have rolemodels and hero(ine)s. Reaching for a time-honored ideal couldn't ever be bad, right? Wrong. It can be very bad. You see, the past has never been as glamorous as we might want to believe.

There are a few eras which fall prey to the Romantic Flaw more than others, but amongst many homesteaders, Victorian times get the worst of it.

It's not our fault, really. Unless we have researched extensively, all we know of the age is fed to us through upper middle-class tales of flowing petticoats, summering in the country, gathering eggs from a sunlit field, and receiving guests in our fire-warmed parlors. We envision hardwood kitchen islands covered in seasonal produce, freshly baked goods, and being surrounded by polite children studying embroidery, tending the gardens, and dutifully following their parents' command.

In 1999, UK Channel 4 produced a mini-series reality experiment in an attempt to dispel at least of few of these myths. The 1900 House was the three-month chronicle of a typical British family sent to live exactly as they would've in the year 1900, at the tale end of Victoria's reign.

The military family of six moved into a spotlessly recreated 1900s London townhouse and were forbidden from employing any modern knowledge or tools for the duration of the show. The husband wore a period uniform, shaved with a straight razor, and was charged with tending the fire in the family range. The children had to learn to occupy themselves with quiet hobbies and a lack of social life, as well as stodgy, utilitarian food which left the young son fully non-plussed. Then, there were the women.

The mother of this tribe soon learned who got the rawest of deals during these post-Dickensian days. For the first month, she arose at dawn and began cooking the porridge, fielding door-knocking merchants offering their goods, ensuring the children were occupied, and beginning her daily cleaning which, in a coal-fired soot-filled home, was a non-stop effort. Laundry, boiled in baking soda water, took three days to fully complete. The state-of-the-art cooker often failed, meaning a roast might take 6 hours, and hot baths were but a mere dream. Family swimming fun was off-limits to her during her "curse" time, and life was a sour-making, grumpy chain of drudgery...until she pawned it off on someone of a lower class.

Those halcyon days of yore were anything but—choked with pollution, poverty, and inequalities we've long since forgotten. There were moments, of course. Moments of perfectly genuine bliss, at least for those of middle class or higher. And I'm certain that those of even the poorest ranks learned to laugh past the hunger, maltreatment, arthritis, and illness.

While taking lessons from this era can bring a needed knowledge to modern times, don't try to recreate the idealized vision of the past. You will falter and fail, and may even resent yourself for an inability to keep up with this romanticized version of days gone by. Instead, enjoy your modern freedoms. Savor the time gifted to you by washing machines, microwaves, and refrigerators. Thank the stars above that you may choose to live as basic or as complex as you wish, and that no man, woman, nor tome of proper household management can set you off your path.

Live genuinely. Live uniquely. Live presently. It's all we've got. And give the 1900 House a few hours of your time. It's well worth it.

Impermanence and Living in the Future Tense

We're moving. Wait, wait. No. We're not moving, yet. We are, however, in the process and mindset of preparing our little hovel for the market, and keeping a weather eye on house prices so we can find that precious little sweet spot that allows us an easy purchase while making buckets on our own sale. It's fun, really...Getting the house all primped like it's going on a first date. Unfortunately, it sets you into a mindflow of change.

Impermanence is a concept which runs entirely contrary to most gardening philosophy. Think about it. We use words like "sustainable," "permaculture," and plant fruit trees which remain barren for two years, we build raised beds in which we intend to rotate crops over seasons to come, and so on. All of these imply a Homestead is in the bag. It assumes that we've found our niche, we've carved out our plot and are ready to dig deep and set down roots. So what happens when you're rootless?

What happens is a hell of a lot of redesign to planned garden renovations and a scramble for as many plastic containers as one can find lying around the house. Containers are portable, after all. We've switched our mentality to that of temporary landlords and now must plan our garden efforts as such.

So, today, yours truly rinsed, filled, sowed, and set out the following: 3 mixed leaf lettuce pots, 2 iceberg lettuce pots, 3 spinach pots, 4 punnets of broccoli and 2 of leek for later transplant, 2 trays of spring onion, 1 big pot of dwarf peas, and a single pot of cornflower seeds for visual appeal. Tomorrow, I'll add a couple of quick-harvest Brussels Sprouts and maybe another tidbit or two.

Aside from the container gardening madness of the day, I seem to be holding steady on my US-Seasonal-Disorder theme. First, American tax day inspired me to rework our budget. Now, American Springtime has me on a cleaning frenzy. The punchline is, I'm in Australia. But, the result has been worth it. Food is planted, accounts are in order, and my kitchen is finally a warm a beautiful place I enjoy using. Yay for False Spring Fever! I wonder how long it will last.

Technical Difficulties

Silence may be golden, but it's a bit counterproductive for a blog. Sadly, I must announce the grim and violent exit of my beloved Samsung camera. She fell prey to the snarling devil beasts that are my dogs. The hubby, in his desire to allow us a bit of extra weekend shuteye, let pup and mom out of their room and let them roam. Alone. In the House. Without supervision. Destruction ensued and my camera became a light aperitif in the feast of paper, pillows, and paperbacks we awoke to find shredded upon the floor.

Soon, there will be a new camera and life will return to normal. Though, we may need a new hard drive, too, as my own decided it didn't want to wake up today. So, technical difficulties abound and I shall spend the added time outside counting the unholy crop of pumpkins we are soon to harvest.

We'll keep you posted as technology permits!

"Indian head" classic test pattern from Broadcasting 101.

Order is the Shape

"Order is the shape upon which beauty depends" - Pearl S. Buck

"Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work" - Flaubert

"Three Rules of Work: Out of clutter find simplicity; from discord find harmony; In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity" - Albert Einstein

"Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day." - Simone de Beauvoir

"The trouble with simple living is that, though it can be joyful, rich, and creative, it isn't simple." - Doris Janzen Longacre

I have things in common with all those quoted here. Like Buck, I am a sinophile, impressed by the work ethic of the villagers. Like Flaubert, I am not easily satisfied with my creations. Like Einstein, I find my religion in the cosmos. Like de Beauvoir, I am a feminist. And like Mrs. Longacre, I find this whole simple living deal anything but simple. In fact, I find it rather draining and grump-making a lot of the time.

You see, it wasn't really an active choice to become a housewife, rather a gradual result of circumstance and happenstance and all their 'stancey brethren. But, there are wonderful things. There is cooking the food we've grown. There is baking the weekly bread. There is improving the value and beauty of our home. There are indeed many good things.

One horrible thing, one thing that drains my Chi and taps my reserves is the utter lack of structure. I'm a fan of structure, order. Expectations lead to motivation which breeds results. This is how I approach even my most creative of endeavors. In my corporate job life had an even pace. Each Thursday, a newsletter was designed. Each Friday, it was distributed. Each month, twenty-some reports were due. Each Monday, weekly web design was done. Though my work was sometimes artistic, often inspired, and regularly entirely concocted out of nothing resembling fact, there was an order to it all.

So, to save myself from the torment de Beauvoir describes, I need some order. I need a routine for the basics of household operation, garden management, and animal husbandry. Without order, this simplified life will begin to look like one very big rock up a very big hill. It's time to organize.

I've read here and there about Household Notebooks, Control Journals, and many other incarnations of the like, but I have no earthly idea which style will help me the most. So, I've started small. I've decided to set up Task Days. Though, I'm still uncertain if I'd rather assign a room per day, or a chore per day...i.e. Bathroom Day vs. Dusting & Mopping Day. It may seem insignificant, but I'm hoping that organizing the tedium will leave more time free for the things I enjoy, like reading, working on my book, going for weekend day trips, and coffee in the city.

What are your tools of the trade? Do you have Post-It Notes everywhere? Are there magnetized To Do lists covering your fridge? Have you carefully constructed a household notebook? Please! Help a girl out and share your organizational successes. Share your failures too. We all enjoy a good bit of shared struggle with our morning coffee or tea, after all. How do you all stay organized?

Permission to Daydream

It's strange what circumstances bring us to a state of reflection. It could be anything, really. Some people find their peace on a country stroll. Others prefer their reverie with foamed milk, two sugars and a biscotti. And still others forget about the entire concept until something reminds them that you don't require permission to daydream.

I'm a member of that last group.

It took three weeks of being "laid up," or under the weather in one way or another for me to find a single hour of meditation. Is anyone preventing me from a moment's peace? Well, perhaps the nine dogs we were raising made it difficult, but there were still hours of my day spent on mindful chores or mindless pastimes, and any one of those ours could have been spared for a chance to breathe. Today, I've found that hour, and I just want to preserve the sensory experience of it, in full.

The weather is warm today, the breeze light and I can hear the occasional chirp of our resident yellow-striped honeyeaters in the yellow-flowered tree outside. The dogs are all sleeping and, perhaps for the first waking moment since our last power failure, the television is off. A dingy white pedestal fan and an equally dingy white fridge are the only mechanical singers in the afternoon choir, and even the cars and neighbors seem to have taken the noontime off. But the smells are what really draw me in. Since morning, a pot of dried chickpeas has been simmering on the stove, exhaling a warm, breaddy aroma that has chased all trace of puppy from the room. Now, with my lunch of yesterday's homemade split pea soup joining the bouquet, my house smells of home and quiet and nourishment. The sights are few: a too-big purple couch, the breakfast dishes still in their morning spots, and a book sits splayed beside me, waiting for me to take it up once more.

I need to do this, more often. I think I need it every day. My books, though numerous, have become dusty with cobwebs of neglect in a year of movement, change, adjustment, and strain. The television, while usually present as a passive chatty friend that helps whittle the hours away, isn't anything particularly special to me. Yet, in the past year, I've rarely let it rest. It's not even the shows that interest me, nor the latest news report. It's simply the presence of voice during daylight hours that keeps the little box flicked on. But what's so bad about silence? I think it's time to rediscover a bit of it.

So, good blogaverse...if, like me, you too have forgotten sounds beyond digital, or your reading has dissolved into nothing but a domino chase of blogs and articles, try to remember that not one of us needs permission to daydream. In truth, we should be asking ourselves forgiveness for putting it off.

10 Ways to Hike Up Your Homestead

The Realm of Home Improvement is a special level of hell reserved for masochists and wide eyed dreamers. You fix and change, renovate and re-do, and you always find more waiting on the horizon. But my, how we love it! The scent of sawdust is a near aphrodisiac and nothing beats the instant gratification of a splotched, hopeless wall suddenly gleaming to life with fresh paint.

If, like us, you have some outstanding credit card debt, or perhaps a devil-loan that seemed a good idea at the time, a few small upgrades to your home can raise the value and boost your budget more than even years of gardening and preserving. With even less done than the suggestions in this post, we increased our property value by over 30%, inspite of slow home sales and falling prices, from our last valuation two years ago. The subsequent equity line paid off 86% of our high-interest debt and gave us a financial buffer to get us through any unforeseen hard times.

1. Paint it Red: Okay, maybe not red, but a fresh coat of paint can't be beat for bringing new life to tired walls. Strip off that 70's wallpaper and add some neutral favorites, but don't be afraid of a splash of color! A red wall in a bright room can be a beautiful touch. If you work in a trade, see if the boss will let you keep paint leftovers, or try to mix a few colors from previous home paint jobs. Just make sure the bases are compatible! No free paint? $40-50 for a quality can of your favorite hue will make a world of difference.

2. From the Floor Up: With a little money and a bit of time, you can update your floors to their previous farmhouse splendor. It may not go perfectly—We met with un-aged wood in stripes beneath sticky carpet adhesive—but even a slightly splotchy wood floor outranks an aging carpet or, heaven forbid, dated vinyl. You'll need a hired sander, an edging sander, sandpaper (in grits of 40, 80, and 100 or 120), spirits for clean-up, and a stain/sealant of your choosing. All totalled, the investment is around $200 for two midsized rooms and a hallway.

3. Kitchen Re-Do: Kitchens and bathrooms make up, perhaps, the largest segment of a home's sale value. They are the rooms we rely on for our most basic of needs and we like 'em pretty! Unless you are blessed with original wood cabinetry and shiny Wolf ovens, you might want to kick up the kitchen with a little bit of work and very little money. Plan ahead and find a friend who is re-doing their own better-than-yours kitchen. Offer to take the old stuff off their hands! You may have to make some adjustments, and you'll likely have to put off your new kitchen awhile as you hunt for the friend in question, but it will save you hundreds and earn you thousands in equity.

4. Organization is Key: A few well placed shelves, as well as orderly, clean appliances, tidy nick-knack displays, and removal of all yard debris will give the heads up to any appraiser that this home is well maintained. It also can't hurt your own personal peace of mind. Check out flea markets, op shops, and yard sales for secondhand shelving solutions, or build your own! Speaking of yard sales, why not have one? You'll clear the unneeded clutter and make some spare renovation funds along the way.

5. Garden Quick Fix: Mow the lawns, water as much as you're able, and then trim, trim, trim, shaving those hedges, trees, and roses into clean shapes. Rip out old, clunky or unruly plants, replace with potted color, such as pansies, or decorative grasses for hotter climes, or edible beauties like red cabbages, berry bushes, and curly lettuce. "Re-purpose" your bulbs from hidden nooks of the garden to simple driveway borders and garden wall liners. Put a fresh layer of mulch on everything, and weed those veggie beds. Remember, the goal is to have a clean garden that is attractive and appears low-maintenance, even if you know better.

6. Space it Out: One might think furnishings have nought to do with house value. This couldn't be further from the truth! While it's fact that your favorite sofa will never be packaged in a sale price, the location of that sofa can change everything. We Plotters are the (not so) proud owners of a huge L-shaped purple, overstuffed, micro-suede sofa. This monster used to sit with one end protruding into the dining area. A bit of effort in moving it to the opposite corner and it's a whole new room! Visually, the floorspace is doubled. So get to rearranging! Even if you change it back after the inspection is done.

7. Cleanliness and Godliness: I've no doubt that the majority of 'steaders out there keep a lovely house, but one final wipe-down can do wonders for perception. Wash the front windows, give the floors a shine with a bit of oil and lemon, scrub the sinks until they gleam using baking soda and muscle, and don't forget the baseboards and corner cobwebs too. It brightens the whole place, and light is a big factor in the value of your space.

8. Community Investment: Your house is well squared away but the neighborhood leaves a bit to be desired. This, unfortunately, affects everyone's property value. So, if your neighbor has a worn out yard, or clearly didn't make it past "Go" on their last clean-up day, offer to lend a hand. This is a good idea for any reason, but it will only serve to boost your appraisal when the bank (wo)man comes a-callin'.

9. Mother Nature Knows Best: In a hot climate? Don't schedule that valuation for the dry, dead season. Same goes for the winter-woes. Make Mother Nature work for you and try to squeeze in those appraisals while your yard is at it's best. We Plotters narrowly escaped drought disaster, having our valuation only weeks before the current record-smashing heatwave. The appraiser would've been met with wilted vines and shriveled shrubs instead of a lovely, green yard.

10. Common Scents: The nose is our most aware and evocative sensory tool. Your valuer isn't immune! Schedule your weekly bread-bake for the hours before inspection, or just simmer up a pot of spiced water on the stove. Aromas such as baked goods and warm cinnamon are known to inspire thoughts of hearth and home.

You only get 10-20 minutes of the bank valuer's time. Make the biggest impact you can! But please do your research before trekking this path. Housing prices have suffered only somewhat in Australia, but greatly in the Northern lands (US, UK) so know your neighborhood. Look at comparable houses that are actually selling, talk to your mortgage broker, and get ideas from friends. We all have learned our lessons and know debt-free is the way to be. I hope these tips help you on the road to freedom.

An Abundance of Life

It's hot. No, that's not right. It's blisteringly hot. Yes, that nearly covers it. With "vacation" winding to a close on the Suburban Plot, we find ourselves in the belly of a record-breaking beast of a heatwave. In just the past two days we've scaled thermal heights I thought impossible outside of Death Valley, seeing temperatures of 122 F (50 C) in sunshine, 113 F (45 C) in the shade. Oh yes, it's hot. But, though life may struggle in the heat, it does not vanish or even pause for very long.

In the weeks since New Year's, despite our efforts to avoid all forms of work or change, we've been repeatedly visited by the all powerful Fairy of All Things Living. She has beaten us over the head with her magic stick of Lots-n-Lots, and we've surrendered to her will.

The first thwack of the fairy's wand came on January 9th when our beloved kelpie-cross dog, Laney, began panting and scratching, plodding and pacing, and gave birth to her litter of unexpected puppies. Hubby and I had placed bets on the date and size of delivery many times in the days following Christmas, but all such things come in their own time (and number). The husband was banking on three, possibly four pups. I put my money closer to seven. Neither of us had any notion that we'd soon be playing host to eight little wrinkly balls of canine cuteness. But, out they came, and our evenings have never been more amusing.

The little fluffballs, now three weeks old, are smelly, and noisy, and pee on just about anything, but then they lick your chin or roll over for a bit of belly scratching, and all is forgiven. We have five weeks more with seven of these eight critters (we're keeping one), and I'm positive it will be a laughter-filled adventure.

One might think adding eight living creatures to our home might be enough to appease the Abundance Fairy, but no! She came back for a second swat just days after the puppies breathed their first. She brought with her a staggering near 13 kilos (28 pounds) of apricots. Our huge, ancient "Plum-ricot" grafted tree, for the first time in hubby's recollection of his five years here, burst forth with enough fruit to keep us well stocked for over a year.

But, wait—There's more! Unsatisfied with my hours of jam stirring, chopping, blanching and packaging, that crafty fairy thought it great fun to toss in over 22 kilos (49 pounds) of tomatoes! So, it was onto evenings spent with the husband, dicing tomatoes for jar upon jar of fresh red, green, and black beauties, and some of the best marinara sauce I've ever made.

Content with what small respite we've enjoyed since the holidays, the deluge of home-and-garden goodness has prompted my enthusiastic return to the blogosphere and all the wonderful people she holds. The next few posts will delve into the dirty details of all we've done in our month off from home improvement and online interactions. I'll be posting photos of the finished (and semi-finished) rooms of our house, recipes for our recently harvested produce, a view into our new, lighter summer breakfast, and how we're managing to keep our garden alive through such murderous heat.

The bread dough is calling for a punch and knead, so that is the end, for today. I do hope you'll rejoin our journey and continue to share yours as well. Oh, and Margo? I haven't forgotten you, and will happily post my Honey Cornbread recipe in the next couple days.

Hazy Crazy Holidays of Summer

Christmas and Hanukkah have passed us by, expanded waistlines and shredded piles of spent gift wrap have been left in their wake. Tonight, the eve of the new year, will conclude my first holiday season in the land down under.

It's been a busy season, jam packed with home project mania and brief forays into the real world for family dinners and shopping trips, but all went beautifully well, in spite of the 33 degree (that's 90+ Fahrenheit) temperatures. Even our garden, chocked full of tender seedlings, weathered the miniature heatwave well. We were so pleased!

Christmas and Boxing Day, themselves, were delightful and filled with more food than anyone should eat in a lifetime. The City Mouse will have to resume her health regime in earnest, post-renovations, to recapture a smidge of lost weight gained over the festivals of food. We did have one adorable companion over Christmas lunch in the form of a fuzzy little Koala, curled up in the cradle of a gum tree just a few steps from our outdoor locale. It was a beautiful sight.

The barrage of home improvements still dominates our every waking moment, but the end is drawing near. Today we pick up a handy-dandy floor sander and begin the process of refinishing our floors. It's daunting, as there are layers of thick, black goo across some of the flooring, but we hold faith that all will glow a beautiful, piny hue when we are done. This new phase of our mad dash toward increased home value means that we will be taking full advantage of the outdoors, this week, with plans to camp out Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, allowing our floors to dry.

Some of the first real harvest has come in from the garden, lending itself to our delicious dinner of green beans and potatoes cooked with ham hock. How else could one serve such a southern treat than with sweet honey cornbread and big glasses of minted iced tea? It was delightful!

During our backyard camp fest, we intend to use up some of the early tomatoes, a few more beans, and hopefully a green pepper or two. I think what I'm looking forward to, most of all, is a camp breakfast of stewed, fresh apricots from our tree. One sunset colored beauty found its way into yesterday's snack time and the harvest promises to be sweetly perfect.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the thoughtful array of gifts we received, this fine holiday, with American treats sent from home, fabulous project books for the hubby and a Ball Home Preserving superbook for yours truly. There were vacuums and shoes, gift cards, seedlings, and bakeware, plus some lovely donations toward our future rainwater tank.

Our own gifts to the relatives were made on a shoestring, consisting mostly of photographs the hubby and I have taken over the last year, packaged for friends and family in envelopes decorated with scrapbooking supplies and sent with much love. Hopefully next year we will be enjoying our holiday in cooler American climes, instead of taking a dip in the pool. Though a good swim is never a bad thing!

Perhaps the biggest gift has come wrapped in another gift all its own. Our present to each other was, of course, our beautiful pup, Laney. But she too had a bit of giving to do and just three weeks after her adoption, she decided to let us in on a bit of a secret. She's pregnant! Yep, that's right. We adopted ourselves a pregnant dog. We estimate her to be in week seven with two to go until these new little critters join our family. We will be keeping one pup and giving the rest away. An inconvenient gift, but one we are growing to love.

For now, we are off for a day of pulling up carpets and sanding down floors. It will be several days before we have net access again, and "vacation" begins January 6th. From that date on, this suburban plotter will be gleefully returning to frequent updates and big news of harvests and kitchen doings. Until then, be well and happy and enjoy your New Year!

Comforts, Chaos, and Serendipity in a Can

The mania of remodeling, renewing, and refurbishing continues on the Suburban Plot, holidays notwithstanding. The stack of dramatic before-and-afters piles higher with every day and, still, the To Do List remains chocked full of fun for the whole family.

There was a fair bit of good fortune involved in this weekend's tasks. You see, more than six months ago, even before our wedding, the husband and I chose a medley of colors for the kitchen-dining-living wing of our little house. Each room bleeds into the next, so we were particularly mindful of the visual harmony of all three paints. For half a year those paint chips have remained taped to our dining room wall, never forgotten but financially out of reach, for paint seems an absolute luxury when one is budgeting for sufficient groceries.

Then a miracle occurred. A genuine miracle of interior design. An intervention of divine decoration! When mixed in proper proportions, two spare cans of paint, one left over from hubby's workplace, another the bare remainders of our hallway work last fall, these two colors blended to a nearly perfect match of our little golden kitchen paint chip! And thus, Kitchen Phase 2 was begun.

I swear, if we get much luckier, I might collapse. The To Do List has become our holy book, its happy little ticky-marks our mitzvahs and commandments done well, its unchecked items our sins and transgressions. Oh yes...we know when we're licked. We are resigned to two more weeks of slavish work and keep only the hopeful results of home inspection and the promised month of break from any home improvement as our beacons of salvation off in the distance.

Amidst the plaster dust and paint fumes, a girl sometimes finds herself in need of the comforts of quieter times gone by, and the City Mouse had a serious hankering for a big, steamy bowl of Chicken and Dumplins. That gooey southern dish just can't be beat for full-on innards-warming grub that lands in the tummy like a load of bricks.

I've struggled, since my immigration, with duplicating the chemical goodness of the Bisquick dumpling and came a step closer, Saturday night, with a baking soda biscuit recipe, homemade chicken stock, and some boneless thigh meat. I still need to find a way to make the dumplings a little less dense and a smidge more breaddy. Experimentation will win out!

But for now, this home renovator must obey her paint can masters and return to the brush for another day of first and second coats, and yet another "after shot" for the stack. I apologize for the delay between posts but, as you can tell, time is a precious commodity these days. Soon, your daily updates will return!

Lining 'em Up and Knocking 'em Down

Scrape and patch, plaster, sand, and paint. That is the rhythm of the week. Another dragon in the forest of Phase 1 Re-dos has been slain! What once was a dingy, lumpy, bumpy bathroom with pink marbled tiles and a blue tub and basin, is now smooth, cool, and blue...with pink marbled tiles and a blue tub and basin. But, that's why it's called Phase 1.

Hubby dutifully smoothed out the walls, getting rid of all cracks and crevices. My task was to take what's old and make it new, rolling on the free blue that falls somewhere between Robins Egg and Seafoam in the Crayola spectrum. It's not a color we'd have chosen for ourselves, but who are we to judge free paint? No one! That's who.

If only that were some kind of final point in our efforts, but nay, the husband has already begun scraping our horror of a toilet, with the laundry to follow soon behind. Eventually Phase 2 of many projects will commence, with paint for the kitchen, and either a re-tiling or repainting of existing bathroom tiles, then finally a terrazzo floor resurfacing, if we can figure out just how one can do that.

I'm pretty happy with the "Green" theme of our renovations. While we're not using soy-based paints or chemical-free anything, we are using second hand products that might've otherwise found their way into landfills. Unwanted paints and cabinets are our best friends in this penny-pinching endeavor and, thus far, the results are looking damn fine to me!

Presents, Plaster, and Pie

My, oh my, another busy weekend on the Suburban Plot. The garden has received some unprecedented, and much needed, rain, and thus has lost our focus for the past few days. So, our attentions have remained inward. Though, my daily inspection did reveal fresh wheaty, tasseled plumage sprouting proudly from the 3 Sisters Corn, and a few summer broccoli and cabbage seedlings pushing their way toward the sun.

Christmas is upon us and today I managed, with Bing Crosby's Holiday Inn and Going My Way for atmosphere, to finish up our homemade gifting for the overseas crowd. I'd dearly love to share what we got for my family, but a fair number of them read these entries and I'd hate to spoil the surprise.

The gifts are simple, nearly free, but there is a lot of love wrapped up in those decorated envelopes. Packages take longer than letters, so the seasonal cards will go out early next week. The postman complemented the wrappings, so I hope the American folk enjoy them.

After having accomplished measured recovery of the house from Kitchen Phase 1, we've handily wrecked it again with Bathroom & Laundry Phase 1 and Hardwood Floors Phase 0.25. Ah, the joys of home renovation! It really amazes me how we're somehow doing this without spending much money, at all...as in barely even over $100. Of course, the gift of second-hand kitchen cabinetry helped more than one could imagine.

We will soon search for a good home for our old cupboards and shelves and I'm considering a cheap classified sale or, failing that, seeing if any place would accept them as a charitable donation. I'm curious if Salvation Army takes such things.

One very negative aspect of all this manic toil is the total lack of time and creativity it lends to my cooking. There have been multiple incarnations of homemade bolognese sauce with pasta and veggies crossing our table in the past two weeks, and even a night of take-out pizza. Though, I did attempt a shred of crafty cookery, reworking last week's delectable Rustic Lamb and Pear Casserole into a tasty mixed meat and vegetable pie. The recreation scored 10 out of 10 on the Hubby Dinner Rating Scale, so that's a definite win! Perhaps when we head to the "Salvos," as it's known here, to enquire about donating the kitchen, we'll pick up an old crockpot to aid in my construction site cuisine.

If you care to try the pie adaptation, whip up a good, strong double-crust pastry of flour, olive oil, salt, and milk, then saute a bit of meat (I used ground beef), an extra carrot, some spring onion, a touch of minced garlic, and tomato paste—season to your liking. Stir in the leftover Casserole and you're ready for some crusty action!

Pre-bake your bottom crust, after venting with a few fork punctures, for 10 minutes at 180C (350F), fill, cover with the top crust, poke a few more holes, and bake at 205C (400F) until the crust is lightly browned. Serve with a dollop of ketchup, sour cream, or fresh and clean!

Steamed Brussels sprouts are my recommended side—the pickle is optional.

Dereliction and the Domino Effect

Have you ever begun a project, which led to a project, which led to a project, and the next time you looked up, several days had floated by? Yeah, that's the deal on the Suburban Plot.

In the past few days we've torn out a kitchen, put in another one, rearranged the living and dining rooms, planned out floor refinishing and begun ripping up vinyl, bought gear for turning standard door into a sliding door, refitted pipes on two sinks, sealed a shower floor, bailed out the peppers from within a forest of two-foot-tall weeds and mulched said peppers, purchased and planned holiday cards and gifts, and met with our mortgage broker (no, we're not selling...yet).

Oy vey!

It's been one hell of a week. Due to the chaos, I've been horrible about online contacts. I really must learn better time management so that I can accomplish everything I want, not just one or two bits.

The week's results are satisfying, though. We can boast some shiny new-to-us cabinets and counter tops, a much more spacious flow to our little home, a gorgeous pepper patch, and what we hope will be some nifty, albeit very very inexpensive, gifts for our loved ones.

This weekend is no less jammed with home improvement tasks with sanding the hallway floorboards being highest on the list. Hubby will be busy as a bee doing the things we actually planned for last week had I not been inspired to do the kitchen, and Kitchen Phase 2 (muted curry colored paint, polished wood floors, new back splash) will begin with wall patching and paint priming.

I'm not really sure what's gotten into us, lately! We've become house-mad work addicts. We've stayed up to, or past, midnight every night, this week, and still we sallied forth with each day's duties. All we can hope is that all our slavish labor pays off in the end.

Bumper Harvest and Crazy Ideas

Our cherry harvest boomed in, this weekend. All eight cherries of it. But we're really quite happy with that count as we didn't even know we had a cherry tree until two months ago when hubby carved it out from amongst a veil of suffocating vines. There are still another dozen, or so, cherries on the tree, and oh boy are they sweet. Like little balls of honey, these bright red treats.

So, after slaving away to handle the onslaught of cherries, we had planned to patch and paint the bathroom and laundry. Well, hubby was going to do that, and I was going to rip up the horrific 1970's vinyl flooring in the hallway, with all plans set to begin the long hand-sanding process of refinishing our hidden wood floors.

Then I had an idea.

Always a dangerous thing, my ideas.

You see, we've been the proud owners of two full kitchens for over a third of the year, now. Hubby's aunt and uncle's friends (did you follow that?) ripped out their somewhat dated kitchen in exchange for steel and stone, and offered us the rippings. We gladly accepted, as we had painfully dated cupboards and counters of our own.

Unfortunately, we allowed the snowball effect to slow our roll on installing the better-than-what-we-had kitchen. We made a list and decided we'd need to pull the old kitchen, paint all the walls, finish the floor, then install the newer stuff. This meant money. And that's just something we rarely ever have.

So, for weeks upon weeks, the poor cabinets lived in shedded squalor, and we continued to wonder if we'd ever have the perfect storm of money, time, weather, and supplies for the kitchen re-do.

Curious to see what we've done, and why I mention this homestead headache?

Stay tuned for tomorrow's post.

Birthdays, Beaches, and Big Boxes

Another decade has passed, this one coming in with a roar and going out with something like a meow. Given all that has changed since my last birthday, I'm pretty grateful for such a peaceful exit to my twenties.

In the last year, I've moved half way across the world, married my hardworking man, become a homeowner, begun a greener lifestyle, and have become doggy-mom to the best behaved canine alive. That's quite a lot for one little year to take! So, the year and I needed a mellow retrospective, rather than a raucous sendoff to commemorate such a time.

Hubby did his best to ensure that I relaxed the whole day long. He made a lovely breakfast, an we lounged about most of the day, watching old movies and decorating our beautiful Christmas tree. Early in our easy day, he and Laney brought me my beautiful gifts—A small shamrock charm for the necklace he began for me last year, and the mystery project he'd been building, all month, in the shed.

It was a cold frame potting table! Just for me! Even now I can envision the seedlings it will sprout, and the lettuces and cherry tomatoes it will bring during colder months. He did a beautiful job. Now we just have to find a way to wrestle the beast back to the garden walk.

Later in the day, we shared my traditional birthday sushi dinner at a small restaurant on the beach, then it was a windy seaside view of the sunset, ice cream cones in hand, and a stroll along the annual Christmas display at West End Brewery.

There were phone calls from family near and far, cards from my parents, and plans for using the lovely gifts I'd been given the week before. Now that all the celebrations have ended, it's back to work for these two revellers. There is a dog pen to construct, a garden to tend, a patio to dig, and finances to sort.

All totalled, though far quieter than most birthdays I've celebrated, it was a truly lovely day. Hopefully it is a foretelling of the year to come.

The Aromas of Gratitude

The day began with bowls and spoons, whisks and cups, and a whole lot of mashed, roasted pumpkin. With Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks chick-flicks keeping me company on the television, I whipped up some delicious pumpkin bread, thanks to the recipe Mom sent from the Paint Bank Ladies Auxiliary cookbook. An adjustment here, a substitution there and this country women's recipe helped to produce two beautiful, mahogany loaves.

City Mouse Pumpkin Bread
3 rounded cups bread flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
2 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp allspice
1 tsp nutmeg
2 eggs
1 cup oil
2 cups sugar
2 cups roasted pumpkin, mashed
3/4 cups raisins (sultanas)

Preheat oven to 180C (350F). In a large bowl, beat eggs until fully blended. Add oil, sugar, and pumpkin, whisking until relatively smooth. In a second bowl, mix remaining ingredients and fluff with a whisk to incorporate more air. Add the dry to the wet and stir until well mixed, adding in raisins at the last minute. Lightly grease two loaf pans with oil spray and dust with flour. Pour the mixture evenly between the two pans and bake for an hour, or until an inserted knife comes out clean. Cool out of the pan, on a board or wire rack. Slice and serve with steaming hot coffee or tea!

As that bread tempted both Laney-dog and myself with it's sweet aroma, it was time to prepare the pie. Oh yes. Pumpkin Pie. The one thing that makes any day Thanksgiving Day. This year's turned out to be the best pumpkin pie I've ever made. I really should write these things down. But I think, if I try, memory will serve.

Next came the veggies that needed chopping, the homemade bread that needed to be dried and diced for stuffing, and myriad other ritualistic practices I've always associated with this forth Thursday in November...even if we were celebrating on the Friday after.

While goodies baked and cooled, treats roasted and fried, I set myself to work washing up the mess I'd made, laying the table, and deciding just how many serving spoons one really requires for a fulfilling life.

Everything turned out fabulously! I couldn't have been more pleased. Though far from home, and one day off schedule, it was the nicest Thanksgiving dinner one could hope for, not to mention being a first for my Aussie husband. But what man wouldn't love a holiday devoted to bountiful food? Even the dear pup shared in the festivities.

I think that is my favorite thing about Thanksgiving. There's just that one thing that makes it my favorite holiday. It asks for, and expects nothing.

I love Halloween, don't get me wrong. And though I'm not of that religious persuasion, I am very culturally ingrained in Christmas and, to a lesser degree, Easter. But all of those fine days ask for candies and gifts, requiring money and pomp, even on the most modest levels.

Thanksgiving asks none of these things. It asks only that we come together we put aside our yearly sorrows, and show gratitude that we've got what it takes to provide ourselves, and loved ones, a feast proportionate to our means.

How lovely it would be if all countries, the world around, adopted the spirit of such a day. Gratitude. Appreciation. Love. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Seeds, glorious seeds!

Here it is, the American harvest festival day, and here I am, still planting seeds! These beauties recently appeared in our mailbox.

Imagine my glee, a few weeks ago, when I ran across a random post on cheap living journal, offering seed samples from a commercial farm supplier. New world records were set with the speed I used to e-mail the lovely girl offering the freebies. Before I knew it, an envelope stuffed full of veggies-to-be arrived.

The generous girl, a dispatcher for the company, had no real motivation beyond generosity, to offer us the seeds. This company typically sells in bulk to large market farms. So, I have high hopes for these little gems.

Ten days ago, I planted some iceberg and red coral lettuces, though Laney-dog dug up a fair few, leaving the results in question. Two days ago, slow-bolting summer varieties of broccoli, cauliflower, and pak choi found their way into the ground. I'm very excited to see how this experiment plays out. And it will be a long one, as she also sent some autumn-growing varieties.

Following the plant theme, yesterday we celebrated a four-way birthday for my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, grandma-in-law, and me...Plants were, by far, my predominant theme. Hubby's mom and her partner gave me a lovely gift certificate to a small nursery they've grown to love, and his aunt and uncle gave me some gardener's gold in the form of a Bunnings card. There will be much landscapey goodness to come!

If this weekend weren't booked to the "nth degree" with tonight's Faux-Thanksgiving, tomorrow's holiday spree and decoration fest, and my birthday celebrations on Sunday, I'd be spending every last dime of those gifts right away.

The remainder of my day will be filled with preparations for tonight's private Thanksgiving meal. It's only the two of us, but it will be good. But for now, be sure to head over to Razor Family Farms and wish my sister, Lacy, a happy 25th. Yes, our birthdays are two days (and five years) apart. And yes, that means I'll be 30. I blame our father.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Rebuilding the Holidays

When a person ups and moves across the globe they are faced with unusual decisions. High amongst these is the selection of what stays and what comes along for the journey. Unfortunately, for my move, holiday decorations found their way into the stay-behind pile.

A few dear items made the trip. Treasured ornaments, the dreidel hand-carved by my father, a couple charmingly dilapidated votives that are from before my birth...these things I kept. However, the garlands, the shiny red strings of beads, and all the pretty lights bit the big one.

So, I find myself on the brink of Decoration Day with a very meager collection and a lack of overall holiday spirit. It's a truly unique experience to go from holidays dusted with snow, a cold bite in the air, soft scarves and bulky sweaters, to one where going to the beach for a dip might not be a bad idea. Add to the mix our ongoing efforts to scrape up spare change when and where we can, and this holiday month could prove to be a daunting hill to climb!

Tomorrow is the joint family birthday dinner, as my 30th falls nearby three other birthdays in the husband's clan. Friday, we're quietly celebrating a belated Thanksgiving, and Saturday has hubby doing some tree trimming, for work. I'll be tagging along for an excuse to spend some time cityside.

My journal and I will spoil ourselves with a bit of coffee and people-watching, and a trek to Target for some sale-priced ornament shopping. Then, it's off to the craft store. I'm hoping to gather up enough goods to sew a couple simple stockings (my husband is the tailor, not I), build a small wreath, and see what other goodies I can dream up along the way. These all seem honorable uses of my birthday gift monies from near and far.

It's been a long time since I've done any crafting, so it will be an adventure! I'm starting to look forward to it, and hoping I can bring a touch of Norman Rockwell to this sun-baked, seaside season.

Seeing Through the Days of Haze

Once in awhile, I find myself in a prolonged haze, with apathy creeping in. It's times like these that the old movies and chick-flicks find their way to my television screen. Naps become frequent and lengthy, and I start fantasizing about things currently out of reach, like renting a van and driving across India, or buying a stone shell of a Tuscan house and becoming an olive farmer. Nothing at hand holds interest, and only that which is beyond my grasp is appealing.

When I worked for the pimped-out non-profit, or the places before that, I might take a "mental health day" or just bury myself in work and, soon enough, the haze would clear. In worst case scenarios, I'd simply pack up and jump off to San Francisco for a week, or run away with the circus for a few days of French Quarter fortune telling in New Orleans.

Alas, being a car-free, cash-poor housewife and fledgling freelance writer precludes those tried and true forms of self-medication. After all, I can't exactly call in sick, and I certainly don't feel like burying myself in dishes or laundry, though both are quietly begging for my attention. There will be no spontaneous adventures abroad, or even afternoon tea in the city. So, how does one push through the haze?

I need a project.

Oh sure, there are a million things undone around this little suburban plot. There are weeds to pull, seeds to sew, a patio to dig, and likely much more. And I do have my bursts of productivity. Currently, there are two steaming cauldrons of broth simmering away atop the stove, and the laundry has all been put in its place. I've plans to vacuum a bit and inventory our food stores, but today these hold no real satisfaction.

I really need a project.

For the past, ohh, dozen years I've had ideas for more than five books, novel and non-fiction alike, rolling around inside my head, some even testing the waters in the outside world, but none have really come to much at all. Perhaps I could try again, and really get one started. I've recently concocted an idea for a new business I'd like to try, but the car situation has slowed that roll, though I suppose some prep-work could begin. I'd give my eye-teeth for a paint set and canvass right now, to again try my hand at oils.

Perhaps one of these projects will ignite my passions once more. Perhaps the upcoming, very round, birthday will do the trick. Perhaps pulling out the holiday decorations and lighting things up will set me right.

I'll never be one of those women who jumps for joy at the thought of a day's chores, or who professes tirelessness when tackling monotonous tasks and to-do lists. I'll always be the gypsy roamer, at heart; the office worker who moonlights as a nightclub tarot reader; the housewife who dreams of refugee work in Africa.

Ah well. A hot cup of coffee, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and Brie Bleu on fresh toast will have to do, for now.

The Quest for Local Food

Photo by Bishops Adelaide Hills

Yet again, we find our food bill creeping northwards. Ironic, as fuel prices have finally dropped nearer to cheaper oil markets. Still weeks away from any real harvest, and more than a month until we will have our chooks, we again find ourselves struggling to cut back on grocery costs.

One possibility we've been considering for awhile is the purchase of whole or half meat-animals, direct from smaller farms. Ethically, this appeals to my inner hippy, as I'm ever aware of the necessity of a locivorous (see Locavore) diet. Financially, one can't deny the spendthrift lure of discounted bulk products.

Here's the problem: We don't know any farmers!

I did stumble across South Rock Lamb, a Kangaroo Island producers cooperative that delivers (I think) 10 kg cuts of lamb to the Adelaide area once monthly. If the price seems right, we'll be signing on with them for every third month, or so. But, primarily, we prefer beef, fish, and chicken. I'd love to support a local cattle farm, a fish hatchery or fisherman, and certainly would enjoy some free range chicken that isn't corporate-stamped. I just have no idea where to begin.

So, blogaverse, I put the call out. Creep out of your lurky hideyholes and recommend your local farmer, friend, service, or co-op. We'd also be open to dairy producers as well!

Our region is the Fleurieu Peninsula, in South Australia. So, anything from KI, the Riverlands, Adelaide Hills, or Adelaide suburbs would be great. If it's a bit further, we're open to that too—We really just want to cut some cost, and get a bit greener in the cutting.

If you have no suggestions, or are far from our region, how do you keep your grocery bills from skyrocketing in these pricey times?

Beauty in the Barossa - A wine valley weekend

It was a gorgeous weekend, followed by days of intense catch-up work on my latest writing assignment. But let's forget work and talk about the beauty that the Barossa Valley shared with us, last weekend.

The entire trip came about as a gift from hubby's boss. A lovely, considerate favor of a pre-paid cabin in a quaint little caravan park on the edge of Tanunda. With our lower cash-flow, these days, the mini-break was such a welcome getaway from all the daily drudgery of home.

We drove up to the wine country early enough to catch the last bits of a legendary local farmers market with the mission of living a 10-mile diet for the getaway weekend. We scored some nice duck legs, a strange local (muntrie) berry jam, some fresh eggs, and tasty produce. Perfect fixings for a gourmet meal.

As a stroke of fortune, while dining at a neighborhood lunch spot, we learned that TV cooking show host, Maggie Beer, had a farm a short trek from where we were staying, so this became a goal of the day. Up to the Pheasant Farm we went, and what a sight, indeed!

The Beers have, what must be, the most beautiful and varied game bird collection ever. There were pheasants of every variety, peafowl, geese, ducks, grouse, squab...a veritable smorgasbord of spectacularly feathered friends.

It was a peaceful afternoon wander about the native-planted bird alley, where we had the frequent company of no less than four peacocks, though the only way we got to see them at their flourished best was from the rear. Yes, we were mooned by a peacock. Cheeky devil.

We made our way back to the farm shop and tasted everything that shop had to offer. There were jams, jellies, sucos, chutneys, pates, fruit pastes, vinegars, and verjus, oh my! We hardly needed food for hours. But they fed us further still as the cooking demonstration began.

For those local to Oz, you might recognize this photo as the set of ABC's The Cook and the Chef. I adore this show, and it was a genuine treat to sample some of Maggie's recipes in her "home" kitchen. Should you view the season opener, know that we were there when the tongue was being simmered, and the Pavlova was puffing!

The rest of the weekend passed at an easy pace, with walks through vineyards, wineries, a second local market visit, and midnight Monopoly in our delightful little cabin. Hubby was beside himself when we stumbled across a classic Ford show at one of the vineyards, and even I got a bit giddy over the 1922 restoration we saw.

My favorite, of course, was the wine tasting at Chateau Tanunda. This place is glorious! Croquet fields outside, salt trains chugging by, old sandstone construction, and flawlessly manicured gardens everywhere

The whole trip really motivated us to get hopping on the garden. We got ideas for fruit tree cultivation, rose plantings, veggie patch planning...oh it was a treasure trove, that place. It was hard to leave!

But, the promise of the hunt for a new pup drew us homeward, and now that mammoth critter is anxious for some outdoor play, despite the icy wind blowing this morning. So off we go, our Laney-dog and me. We've a lot of training to cover, and it's going to be a very busy day. In the grand scheme, it's really good to be home.