Sick

Being sick sucks. I forgot how much it sucks, because I very rarely get sick. I'm blaming this on my friend that had strep last week. It started on Tuesday with a sore throat and sinus pressure. I got the plywood cut for my floor in the morning, and felt crappy after that. But it was Fat Tuesday! Mardi Gras! And as this city likely won't be here for much longer (neither will I) why not enjoy it now?
So I took a 12 hr sudafed (better than crack!) and headed for the French Quarter. Beer made my throat feel better anyway.
The sheer madness of Mardi Gras is something everyone should experience at least once. I prefer to stay away from the touristy, frat boy riddled area of Bourbon St., but that is where most of the titties are, if you're into that sort of thing. The Frenchman street area is where most of the locals hang out, and the place to go to see well thought-out costumes. My favorite was a couple wearing sandwich board signs with a 'menu' for the "Freddie Mac and Cheese Grill" with humorous menu items relating to our current state of affairs. I wish I'd brought the camera, because I was too many beers into the process to memorize any of the items. Maybe they'll come to me later.
It was still an early night as far as most Fat Tuesdays. I was in bed by 11pm. And SOOOOO CCCCCCcOLD..... Fever sucks. I hate feeling that way. You do get some pretty interesting dreams though.
I worked the next day, even though I felt like total crap. What boss is going to believe you are actually SICK the day after Fat Tuesday? But I managed to blunder through it, and passed out at 7:00 pm. After sleeping 12+ hours the fever seems to have broken and it no longer feels like my head will explode when I cough. So I'm taking it easy today. I'd rather lose one day of working on the van to get better than a bunch of days getting sicker if I don't give myself time to heal. I can still work on planning the interior. I've drawn the 'footprint' of the van interior to scale. The fun part is drawing my major components (bed, stove, potty, battery box) to scale, cutting them out and moving them around on paper to see what works best. Kind of like a paper doll, but for a van.... anybody remember paper dolls?
I bet they were made in America......
I'll post picks of the floor in a later article. I want to talk about the process, and that is too much to go into here.
In case anyone is wondering, the photo is from 'Hidden Messages in Water' by Dr. Emoto. They talk to water, then photograph the results when it is frozen. They said "you make me sick" to this water. A fabulous book, with the potential to change your view of reality. Highly recommended.

Seeds of Change

The voices in my head have been telling me that seeds will soon become very valuable. Fortunately my job allows me the opportunity to acquire heirloom seeds at a reasonable cost.

So I got to thinking. What plants would I want to take with me if I could only pick about 20?

The cultural diets of various areas work together to provide complete nutrition. We wouldn't have survived for tens of thousands of years without certain important plant partners.

The people of the fertile crescent survived happily with wheat, barley, native fruits and the help of animal friends in the form of meat and cheese.

I could eat nice fresh cheese, good whole grain bread and fruit forever. (And maybe some Prosciutto....mmmmmm.)

In the Americas the three sisters were critical; corn, beans and squash. The Anasazi survived for tens of thousands of years with these plants.

Seeds of Change is the heirloom seed company we use at work. The seeds are vacuum packed in resealable plastic packs and have a sell by date of Dec. 2010. I will most likely be either settled or dead by then. I tried to concentrate my purchase to plants that give the most bang(calorically speaking) for the buck. Squashes, root vegetables, grains and beans. When I was ordering the seeds, I tried to get the toughest varieties; the longest keeping squash and carrots, drought and beetle resistant beans, disease resistant tomatos and peppers. I like the weird grains too, because I know they haven't been genetically messed with; Quinoa, amaranth and millet.

I ordered some oil seeds too; safflower and sunflower may both be pressed for cooking/fuel oil.

I didn't buy any greens; they are low in calories and pretty easy to find foraging.

So today I bought seeds. Another prep to cross off the list.

I'd still like herb seeds, but some of my plants (dill, cilantro, parsley, fennel) are getting ready to go to seed so I will probably just collect those and seal them myself.

A few plants I would love to have, but they come in tuber form, not seed form, so don't keep as long. Jerusalem artichoke (aka sunchoke) Yacon, garlic, hops, onions and potatos. Maybe I can barter for them whenever I find my green valley.

A Storm is Coming

Today was an interesting day. I got off work early because of Mardi Gras, and my LA refund check came in the mail. I promply trotted off to the bank to cash it before my state goes bankrupt too. Almost $200.00, and most of it will go to food preps.

To celebrate reclaiming a portion of my my hard earned dollars, I went to the pub. Fox News was on the TV, and they were talking about worst case scenarios, survivalism, and civil unrest.

It was muted, with subtitles, so as not to disturb the doctors and lawers and accountants who also frequent this watering hole. But there it was. On the TeeVee. And we all know that the box speaks the truth.

When I got home, I happened upon the program through an unrelated e-mail link. I watched a portion I'd missed, with my ex sitting right there. He ridiculed it, of course, but it started an interesting discussion.

"The American people won't overthrow the government a la' French revolution. They are too fat and happy. The French were all starving. Americans might march on the White House, but everyone will forget to bring the torches and pitchforks."

"Babe, the people may be fat, but they ain't happy. If Americans overthrow their government it WON'T be with pitchforks....."

We talked about the economy and I mentioned something about ammo being the new dollar. I think I pissed him off. I tried to apologise; "I'm sorry I talk about this. I know it messes with your world view. I won't talk about it anymore if it makes you feel better. At least you have plenty to trade for food. Those defenses will be worth their weight in gold."

I don't think that made him feel better. He quit talking to me and went to bed. I really don't give a shit at this point. Let his world view be messed with. Maybe he will wake up before it's too late. Maybe he'll just think I've gone off the deep end and be glad to be rid of me. Whatever. All things will be as they must.

But I think I can see something coming that he and a whole lot of sheeple don't want to think about. I can try to warn them, but it really doesn't do any good. Mostly it just upsets them, and makes them stay away from me. I guess that's OK. I can really only fit enough preps in the van for me, myself and I anyway. (and maybe a couple of cat friends)

Batten down the hatches, the revolution idea has gone mainstream.

Mainstream thought to manifestation of reality is a small step.

"Say your name/try to speak as clearly as you can you know/nod your head, just in case they're watching with their shiny satellites/ Tune it out/listen to the shit they pump into your head/filling you with apathy/hold your breath/wait until the time is right/hold your breath/ the end is near." -Nine Inch Nails

Prepped and Primed

My floor is all glassed in, prepped, primed and ready for a sub floor. It's been rainy a lot this week, so I lost some days, and fixing the rest of the exterior holes in the Holy Hippie Veggie Van became a priority. What's the sense in putting in a floor if it'll just get messed up when it rains? So today I ground out and de-rusted the rest of the holes where the rain comes in.

And stops my mind from wandering....

This weekend they will get glassed in. It shouldn't take that long, so maybe I'll be able to install the sub floor too.

Prep work is always a pain in the ass. It takes the longest and is the least satisfying. But the final result always depends on laying a solid foundation. Prep work is critical. Just the same, I will be ecstatic when I get to cut wood to build my interior. That should go a lot faster.

My plan is to install a basic framework for the bunk and kitchen areas that is attached to both the frame of the van and the sub floor. After wiring, I can insulate and put up paneling.

Then I can start to think about finishing cabinets/storage/shelves and what type of flooring I want to install. Woo Hoo!

"Engineer the future now, damn tomorrow, future now. Throw the switches, throw the Judge, yesturday's for mice and Gods." -Clutch

Dog Gumbo

No, this isn't a recipe (that might come later) just some thoughts on post collapse city life VS post collapse country life. I consider myself fortunate to have experienced Hurricane Katrina. It allowed me to see firsthand how quickly the thin veneer of civilization can dissolve when people start to get desperate.

I was very fortunate to be in the 'country' a few miles outside of a one-stoplight town on the north shore of Lake Ponchartrain. I was prepared. I evacuated (not far) with marine batteries, 12V fans, food, water, gas, chainsaw, camping gear, xtra fuel, batteries, etc. Driving back to my house there were no street signs. They had all been blown down. I saw no other vehicles on the freeway. It occurred to me then that I was entirely on my own. No phones worked. No power anywhere. No gas stations, no grocery stores, no help. If I was to survive, it was all up to me. It was an interesting feeling. I had to stop several times, fire up the chainsaw, and clear the road to get through. Power lines and debris covered the roads.

I was very lucky. The flood was about a foot shy of getting inside my house. Once I got back to the house, I lived on the screen porch for a month with no power or running water. I would read by candlelight, or listen to the chaos in the city on my battery powered radio. After the first night, I decided I needed a gun (I didn't own one). I painted "Looters will be shot" on my plywood, and carved a big oak branch with a knot on the end. Not much good against a gun, but maybe good against someone who thought they were dealing with a unarmed female, and better than nothing. But it was good to be out in the stix. The people in my neighborhood worked to clear the roads. I brought my neighbor a tarp because a tree went through her roof, and mine was mostly OK. She hugged me and cried. I had never met her before.

A few days later, I ventured out for supplies. I procured 30 gals of gas for $95.00 after waiting in line for four hours. I showered with water left in the pressure tank at the nursery I managed, and stood naked in my store drying myself off. It was surreal.

Hurricane Katrina provided me with an invaluable snapshot of both the worst and the best sides of Humanity. It made me realize how much we take for granted, and how easy it is for all that to fall apart. It fully reinforced my notion that if you wait for help from the government, YOU WILL DIE WAITING. And it convinced a formerly pacifist hippie to arm herself to the teeth.

It really was quite an adventure.

What a Wonderful World

I was e-mailed this video. Everybody needs some cuteness once in a while.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rooyt3ptNco
This song reminds me of the night after Katrina. I was sleeping outside on the pool deck at my friend's house because it was cooler, and all the mosquitoes had been blown away. The day before, I nearly died when a large oak tree fell on me. I was stupid for being outside in a hurricane, but I must be here for a reason because the tree fell around me. Three feet in front of me was a crotch where the branches split. About a foot and a half to either side of where I was standing were branches as thick around as my body. I got a knock on the head and a bruise on my leg, but I was almost a grease stain on the driveway.
So there I was, laying on the pool deck, looking at the stars. They were AMAZING. Between the haze and the light pollution, we rarely see the stars here, but the power was out for hundreds of miles around.
I thought about how thankful I was to be alive. I gave thanks for the stars, I gave thanks for my family and loved ones. I gave thanks to that 300 year old live oak for not killing me, even as it died. I realized then what really mattered in life was life itself.
Whenever I hear that song, I think about those brilliant stars that night on the pool deck. And I remember to give thanks for all that I have.

Dreams of Eden

I had many strange dreams last night, but I only remember a couple parts of them.
In the first I was in a city. I went up into a parking garage with lots of other people to watch a fireworks show. I was annoyed that I had to wait in a long line to get up there, and felt a little stifled and panicky like I always do when I am forced to act like a herd animal to slaughter. (MOO). Finally we got to the top and it was still very crowded. I'm short, so I kept trying to squeeze to the front so I could see. Even in front it was disappointing. The fireworks were a long ways off. I think the city was Seattle. My dreamscape cities seem to be defined by the freeways; the routes in and out. This had the layout of Seattle. It is invariably nighttime when I visit cities in dreams.
The second part I remember, we went to a farmers' market or renaissance festival in the country. It was a bright sunny day and there were lots of booths selling neat things. We walked away from the market down a trail. After a while we came to a point where a slightly overgrown trail left the well worn path. I knew that down this path less travelled was the place I had been searching for. My valley, my Eden, was just beyond the next hill. I wanted to go there with all of my being, but for some reason I couldn't. Some commitment or responsibility was holding me back. My heart was breaking. I was so close to my dream I could smell the fertile Earth, the dew on the grass, but it was just out of reach. I threw myself down on the ground sobbing.
I was wearing lots of rings, and in a fit of frustration I started tearing all of them off my hands. I left just one, with a stone of swirly green Malachite. Somehow it represented my connection with that lost Garden. I cried and cried for the loss I felt.