#me? posting at a regular hour? never. 2:24 am or bust

[doodleodds]

July random art dump!

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 4 of 29)

         “Wake up, Gene. I made breakfast.”

           Rubbing his eyes, Gene still had to do a double take when he saw Paul. Back in a bathrobe, of course, although this time he at least had last night’s shirt underneath it. The bathrobe was different, too—this one was white and only hung down to his knees instead of his ankles.

           “Breakfast in bed? And here I thought the romantic schtick was you putting on.”

           “It is. Up.”

           Gene raised an eyebrow.

           “Up?”

           “It’s in the kitchen. I’m not bringing it to you.”

           Gene laughed but followed Paul out of his bedroom.

           He hadn’t made a fancy spread out of it. Several pieces of toast, some with cheese, and some crusted with butter and cinnamon-sugar, scrambled eggs, and a carton of milk were all that greeted him, but it was still a lot more than Gene had expected out of Paul, who tended to only eat cereal, if anything, early in the morning.

           “What’s the occasion?” Gene managed before digging in. Paul shrugged.

           “You’re putting up with a lot right now.”

           “I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”

           “Toast and eggs isn’t really cooking, Gene.” Another shrug. Paul frowned, and then untied the bathrobe and draped it across a chair, to Gene’s surprise. And disappointment. Underneath, he was still wearing both the shirt and boxers from last night. “Me and Julia had to fix our own food growing up.” He started to laugh, dryly. “Lots of T.V. dinners and frozen shit. It’s probably why I was so fat as a kid.”

           “Didn’t your mom—”

           “My mom’s a nurse. She was always working.” Paul picked one of the pieces of cheese toast off the plate, tearing off the crust as he spoke. He hadn’t sat down yet. “And my dad had his shop… he’s still got his shop, you know.”

           “Still?”

           “He said he didn’t want me taking his living away from him. He thinks we’ll go bust any day.” Paul’s mouth twisted, and he walked over to the trash can. “He was probably right.”

           “I’ll eat the crusts,” Gene said abruptly, when he realized Paul was about to toss them in. The wince that flashed across Paul’s face was just enough for him to backtrack, though Paul did hand over the crusts. “We’ll see the psychic today. We’ll get this taken care of.”

           “Is that your way of telling me to get dressed?”

           The dress Paul had said was in the washing machine was significantly shorter than the polka-dot number from yesterday.

           “Absolutely.”

--

           “What’d you tell the psychic, anyway?” Paul asked, as he pushed his sunglasses back up to the bridge of his nose. He was driving again. They’d gotten an appointment for only an hour after breakfast. Just enough time for Paul to shower and for Gene to pull on his clothes from yesterday. Paul had halfheartedly offered his own clothes to Gene, but Gene, aware they wouldn’t fit, had turned him down. If he kept having to spend nights at Paul’s, he’d have to grab some of his own clothes from home and bring them back. He didn’t think Paul could tolerate him in the same outfit for days on end.

           “Oh, that I was Gene Simmons and my girlfriend thought I was cheating on her.”

           “Gene!”

           “Relax. I just told her I was coming in with a friend.”

           “Why did you tell her that?”

           “Easy. It’s a cheap litmus test.” Ace’s superstitious dabblings were probably the scant leftovers from his hippie days, for the most part, but the guy was pretty canny, in a certain way. Gene couldn’t quite see him falling for some run-of-the-mill swindler. “If she’s really a psychic, she should be able to figure out something’s wrong with you without being told.”

           “God, Gene, you make it sound like I’ve got leprosy.” Paul changed lanes, leaning in to get a better look at the street sign ahead. “I think this is the right road—lemme see that address again.”

           Gene unfolded the paper and held it up in front of Paul, who nodded.

           “You know what I meant, Paul.”

           “Still.”

           He pulled into the parking lot near the dilapidated building. Like Ace had said, it looked like she only had an office there. The paint on the window looked relatively new, at least, “Suzie’s Psychic Readings” in bubbly, neon-bright letters. They got out together, Paul tossing his keys and sunglasses to Gene, and went inside.

           It wasn’t quite as garish inside as Gene had feared. There was the smell of incense and patchouli, a beaded curtain, potted bamboo, and a cheap Oriental rug, but no stockpile of weird merchandise like crystals and Japanese trinkets. That was a little reassuring. A blonde girl in bellbottoms and braids rushed to greet them.

           “Mr. Simmons!”

           She stuck out her hand, and Gene shook it. Abruptly, Gene realized Paul wasn’t the only one who’d forgone a bra this morning. Her nipples were obvious beneath her thin peasant-style top.

           “I’m Suzie! Now why don’t you and your friend come on back? How would you like to start, is your interest in tarot-reading or more of an astrology bent—are you looking for guidance on—”

           “It’s actually more about my friend,” Gene said. “I’m just here for support.”

           “Are you?” Her grin widened. She held out her hand for Paul, too, who took it without enthusiasm. The girl jerked back as soon as she touched him, the smile fleeing her face. “What the—I-I’m sorry, you—” She was staring at him hard, eyes only briefly going to Gene’s face, almost in accusation. “Did you do this to him?”

           “What the hell? No! I’m trying to get him back to normal!”

           “He is,” Paul vouched. The excitement was clear on his face. “Gene, you said you didn’t tell her.”

           “I didn’t.”

           “Come on back,” Suzie said. She looked scared, almost. The perkiness had completely disappeared from her demeanor. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

           They followed her into the next room. This was laid out a little more like Gene had expected, a table covered by a heavy purple tablecloth that dragged the floor, decks of tarot cards, and star-covered curtains. She pushed the cards aside, waving them to take a seat and grabbing Paul’s hand as soon as they did, tracing her fingers across his palm.

           “You won’t mind if I skip the usual spiel, will you? You’re not here for me to tell you about your past or your future, you’re here to find out who did this. Aren’t you, Paul?”

           Gene made a mental note to thank Ace profusely. Just leading him to this girl was repayment for all those drunken fiascos on tour. He glanced over at Paul. He looked tense, but he nodded.

           “Yeah. Ace, he recommended you.” He swallowed. “I’ve been over it. I don’t think I’ve got an ex who’d do this.”

           “You don’t.” Flatly. “But you’ve slept with someone who would.”

           “A groupie, then? Was it the one who—sorry,” Paul said suddenly. “I’ll just let you tell me.”

           “I don’t know.” Her eyebrows were knitted together, and she was staring at Paul’s palm hard. She didn’t drop it for at least a minute. Gene was a little concerned that she was trying to go into a trance, or something weird like that, but then she looked up again. “I can’t break the curse. The best I can do is try to lead you to the one who did it. Do you have anything from before this happened? Anything you were wearing, or kept on your person?”

           “I’ve worn this dress before this happened,” Paul said bluntly. Suzie flushed. “What, won’t it count?”

           “Something more, ah, regular. Something you’re tied to.”

           Paul shook his head.

           “Like what? My rings don’t fit. I don’t carry a handkerchief. I didn’t bring my wallet. Shit, am I really going to have to go home and get something before you can help?”

           Gene reached over on impulse. Paul flinched slightly when he touched his hair, letting out a breath when Gene’s finger ran across his good ear, and the small gold hoop still dangling from the lobe.

           “Would this do?”

           Suzie brightened.

           “Yeah! The stronger the connection, the more likely I’ll be able to get a read.”

           “You get a read from objects?” Gene asked.

           “It’s psychometry,” Paul said, unscrewing the earring from the post and giving it to the girl. “It was probably on before; I always forget to take it off. Might as well be good for something besides getting caught in my hair.”

           “Perfect.” She rubbed the earring in her hand. Gene was almost offended on Paul’s behalf; the way she was rubbing it, it seemed like she was expecting the finish to come off on her hand, but then she closed her eyes. “Oh…”

           Gene waited, glancing at Paul intermittently. Paul was actually sweating, his focus totally on the psychic. Better to not disturb him. Gene’s glance sunk down—the black-on-floral dress hung to just below Paul’s knees when he was standing, but his posture while sitting meant it was riding up above his knees. He was getting a pretty good view of Paul’s legs (he’d shaven, even, probably out of habit from being on tour). Distracting as all hell, the long, uninterrupted line from the hem of the dress to Paul’s pumps, even though his ankle was hanging out of them. He swallowed, trying to force his attention away before Paul noticed. Luckily, Suzie started to speak again.

           “I can see a nightclub.”

           “Which nightclub? When?”

           “There’s letters…. C..B…”

           “CBGB? What the hell were you going over there for, Paul? That place is a dump!”

           “Shut up, Gene—”

           “She’s small. Brown hair and freckles. She’s—you’ve had her before, but you don’t know it.” The earring was still clenched in her hand. “She’s been wanting to hurt you since the last time you met.”

           “Why?”

           Suzie didn’t answer.

           “I see you in a hotel. She’s trying to get something of yours without being obvious. She starts tracing down your chest—”

           Oh, God. He was going to hear the play by play of Paul’s liaison. Not what he wanted to hear under any circumstances, but especially not now, with Paul sitting right next to him, in that body, hanging onto every word. Suzie was going redder than a tomato.

           “She’s the one that was pulling out my hair. Right?”

           “Y-yeah.”

           “Do you have a name? That’s what I want, more than anything.”

           “I…” Suzie hesitated. “I’m not… I’m not seeing that you asked for one.”

           “What?”

           “I… I just go off feelings, thoughts, sights. What was on her mind and yours. It’s like a movie. If it’s not in the scene, I-I can’t—”

           “What do you mean, it’s not in the scene! I slept with her! Can’t… can’t you trace her somehow? Suzie, I’ve got to track this girl down!”

           “Paul, I—”

           Gene’s brain felt like it was spinning in overdrive as he tried to think. Just a first name, all Paul might have ever asked for, wouldn’t have done him any good, anyway, but maybe—

           “Has—has she been to the club before? Is she a regular?”

           Suzie hesitated, then nodded. Paul tore his gaze away from Suzie to give him a look so gratified that Gene felt positively filthy for spending so long staring at his legs.

           “Does she know anyone there? Anyone working there? Or the bands—”

           “Her brother bartends. He—” She seemed to be concentrating again, opening her palm. She’d been holding the earring so tightly that the indents stood out red against the lines. Her other hand rested against her forehead. “I’m trying to see if she saw him there while you were with her. I… yes. He… he’s in his mid-twenties. Not tall. He’s starting to bald a little, so he combs over his hair.” She blinked several times in succession, and offered Paul his earring back. “That’s all I’m seeing. I’m sorry it’s not more than that.”

           “Don’t apologize. It’s a start.”

           “It’s more than a start,” Paul corrected. He took the earring, putting it back in. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

           “You don’t have to thank me. I just hope you find her.” Suzie stood up. “I’ve never seen anyone get cursed to such an extreme before. I don’t know that—” she stopped, and looked at Gene meaningfully. “Anyway, don’t thank me, but do pay me. And let me know if I can help again.”

           Begrudgingly, Gene pulled out his checkbook.

           “No telling Ace about this, right?”

           “I never tell my clients about each other.” She was considerably sunnier when Gene handed her the check. Almost back to the girl who’d greeted them so brightly. It worried Gene, her whole reaction. Obviously, people didn’t get their sex swapped on them on a regular basis, but all the caution, the wording… the way she’d cut herself off… he pursed his lips. Paul seemed more relieved than he was, which was the important thing. He clapped a hand on Paul’s back as she walked them out, trying to be reassuring. “Good luck, you two.”

           “I guess we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Gene said as Paul started up the car. “I still can’t believe you were picking up chicks at that punk rock dive bar.”

           “I wasn’t only there to pick up chicks.” Paul smiled faintly. It was about the first time Gene had seen Paul come close to a real smile in two days. “The acts there remind me of us.”

           “Really?” There was nothing punk rock about KISS. The edge the band had started out with was getting whittled away with every outside writer and musician they brought in on the records. “How?”

           “When we first started. They’ve got to carry in their own equipment, they don’t have much of a setup. They get real wild. They’re having a lot of fun.” Paul turned out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “Sometimes I think we’re losing that. I dunno how to get it back.”

           Gene knew what he meant. They couldn’t change their setlist on a whim anymore. The confetti and flashpots, the stunts, they were all timed. When the money was rolling in, he didn’t mind it, but if he allowed himself to think about it too long… something was getting too—manufactured, too predictable. He didn’t blame Paul for checking out the bizarre punk acts. It might be the inspiration they needed.

           “You’re not taking us back to your place, are you?”

           “Yeah.” Paul slowed to a stop at a red light. “We’ve got all day before we can try the club.”

           “We need to get some clothes first. You can’t go to CBGB in that outfit. Neither can I.”

           Paul hesitated.

           “We’d only be in there to find the girl.”

           “And it could take hours.” Or she might not even be there that night. “You’d stick out too much in that dress. It’s not punk at all.”

           Paul looked like he was about to argue, then he shook his head.

           “Okay, fine.”

[fuck-customers]

Few Months worth of BS

So a mix of be hardly getting on tumblr anymore and submissions being closed whenever I am on has caused a pileup of BS stories from both jobs, enjoy. 

Note- Job 1 is gas station cashier, job 2 is Tiny SeaTzars

1. Job 1- it’s like 9am, i’m barely awake and this dude who looks old enough to be my dad comes in. He’s nice enough, pleasant guy, buys his stuff and leaves. Comes back in like 5 seconds later to ask if i’m married. I was 17 at the time so I said “Sir, i’m 17.” and he immediately backpedaled thank the heavens. Creepy enough, yeah? Nope! His first thought was to say “I’m so sorry, it’s just my wife recently passed and I’ve been looking.” To which my manager (my mom) pops around the corner and says “Well you’re looking in the wrong places sugar.” In a lovely tone that screamed “You’re 3 seconds from joining your wife”. He left redder than a tomato and that incident has become a running joke with everyone. 

2. Job 1- Slow day so far, mostly just pissers. (peeps who use the bathroom and don’t buy anything) Dude comes in looking like hell. Fills his own cup up from our fountain and gets pissy when it rings up a whopping $2, says it’s a refill. I tell him we don’t have refill prices. So he goes and switches it out to one of our cups. Then he wants to pay with a card, gets even more pissy when I tell him there’s a $5 minimum on cards, says “that’s bullshit, since when?” Well ever since the card fees aren’t worth it on under $5 purchases, so always. Best part of that is we have LARGE signs on both sides of the door and ON THE FRONT of the fountain machine that say “Due to fees, there is a five dollar minimum purchase requirement on all cards, thank you for your cooperation!” He gets pissed beyond words, my manager tries getting him to calm down, he says “Not right now, you really don’t know the kind of day i’m having.” Things escalated quick and next thing I know he throws his full cup of soda on the floor and stormed out cussing up a storm. I ran after him and got his plate number as my manager called the cops but they couldn’t get anything from it so he’s never been found and ugh. Prick. Prick is all I can say.

3. Job 2- Someone actually called Tiny SeaTzars to ask for the hours of the CFK (backwards) next door. Just… really?

4. Job 2- We have a new dude, on like his second week. If a pizza is expired (been in the box for over an hour) we workers can eat it. Boy he was happy about that. Thing is, he’s almost always eating. Wasn’t working Friday but got told Saturday. It’s about 6pm, y'know, near peak rush hour when we can easily make a $2k hour, and he’s in the back leisurely eating pizza. Everyone else is busting their ass and he’s eating. Makeline dude had to leave his post to get sauce (because SOMEONE wasn’t at his post where he could be asked to get it for him so makeline doesn’t have to LEAVE THEIR POST IN THE MIDDLE OF A RUSH) and found him and chews him out, and thankfully he got a writeup for it. But just??? Bruh what level of stupidity/obliviousness do you gotta be on to see everyone rushing and running around you and think “Oh, time to eat some pizza.” ????

4. Job 1- Lady I don’t know comes up to the pump and sets of the bell that says someone’s trying to get gas. We have some regulars that we just release it and they’re trusted to come in and pay after, otherwise we’re prepay. However, I have never seen this chick before since I’ve worked here so not doing that. I tap her pump on my screen to shut it up and wait for her to come in. She does, all smiles, and says hi. I ask what I could help her with, she gets a confused look on her face and says “I need gas.” and I tell her we’re prepay. Bitch mode starts to wind up and she asks in a pissy voice “Really? Since when?” and I tell her “Since the station opened.” and then she says “Hmph, okay, I’ll talk to Sean (store owner) about that.” and leaves. Like, okay? We’re prepay, you’re not gonna change that by talking to the boss, who will tell you we are prepay. I don’t get people who think they can namedrop my boss to scare me??? Like “I know Sean.” Yeah, he runs a mechanic shop, half the county knows him, your point?? Best part is when they mispronounce his name or get it entirely wrong. “Yeah, me and Shane have been friends since we were kids.” Well good for you and Shane, but that ain’t helping you with SEAN.

5. Job 2- Lady calls in a 10 pizza order to be picked up the next day at 10am. We don’t open until 10:30. I try telling her and she get’s angry but tried meeting in the middle for 10:15. Talked to my managers and they said no way before 10:30. Tell her and she gets so pissed. “For such a big order you can’t get there 15 minutes early to open?” Okay first of all, do you really believe that we get here at 10:30 and open up? What the fuck are we going to sell?? We need to count down the registers, prep the toppings, make sheetouts and stock the hotboxes. We’re here at 6am or better just so we CAN open up at 10:30. We can’t just open the doors at 10:15 because if there’s more customers waiting around we’ll have to serve them when we’re NOT ready because we let you in, and then it snowballs into “well you were open this early yesterday/last week/blahblah” and then we get in trouble. In the end she cancelled her order and asked for corporates number. 

6. Job 2- Sunday after-church rush. Coworker calls in to ask for when he works next. Manager flat out tells him to get up and come check for himself because we can’t stop and look for him right now and hangs up. Seriously dude, literally EVERYONE knows to take a picture of the schedule when it’s posted. You hang around for half an hour before you leave every day anyway so wtf is stopping you from being an adult and taking a picture of your hours?? He called back like three times over the next few hours and we finally slowed down and told him but my god how stubborn and lazy do you have to be.

7. Job 1- Dude and his friend come in, one goes the the bathroom, the other gets some candy (which is RIGHT on the other side of my counter) and then goes looking around the shelves for other stuff. Buddy comes back to pay for gas and other guy leaves. I tell bathroom boy to hold on and I do a quick survey of the shelves find nothing, then go out to their car and see candy snatcher reclined in the seat eating the Reese’s he just took. I tapped on the window and the dude about jumped a foot in the air. I said “So, do you wanna pay for that or should I just go on and call the cops on you for shoplifting?” and luckily the dude doesn’t try fighting it and comes back in and tells his friend to pay for it. Friend is notably pissed and just glares at him. Tells me to just put whatever change is left after the candy in gas and heads out. Sincerely hope his friend at least thunked him in the back of the head for trying, and failing, at being a petty candy thief. 

8. Job 2- Ever since I’ve gotten glasses my eyes have been bloodshot almost a constant 24/7. Eyedrops clear it up for maybe an hour or two. The first few days the “are you high” question and jokes were kinda funny and amusing, but it’s been two months and it’s still going on. I would just stop wearing my glasses but I need them to legally drive (astigmatism in both eyes) so ugh.

9. Job 1- Once again, the station is prepay. It’s written on every pump in very large letters above every handle. Please tell me why these 5 asian guys (I think relevant? They didn’t seem to understand me well so maybe language block?) could not get it through their heads that they have to pay before they get their gas. They come in saying the pump isn’t working, I say we’re prepay, you have to pay before you get it. One of them goes to hand me his card and I ask how much in gas he’d like. Confusion. Ended up having to explain what prepay was (felt like a tool because of it) and they ended up leaving saying “Okay, we go to station down the street.” And I just.. Okay? Every station in the county is prepay but okay, you do you. Honestly this is more of a “I hope I didn’t offend them” than a fuck them thing. Felt bad I couldn’t help them.

10. Job 2- We ran out of green peppers, so one of our supremes is off the menu unless they’re fine with no peppers. Dude calls and wants the pepper supreme. I tell him we’re out of green pepper and he goes into upset toddler mode. 

Him: “Out of peppers, are you kidding me? How does that even happen?!”

Me: “Well, it’s kinda a supply and demand thing, Sir. If it’s a popular topping we’ll run out of it quick.”

H: “How can you run out of peppers it’s a pizza store you’d think you’d be able to tell when to order more of a topping!!”

And we don’t order it ourselves? We take count and tell our District Manager that we need things and he’s supposed to order them for us? (Dumb system I know but it’s what’s in place) 

In the end he asked for a manager and just hung up when he said the same thing. Found out he left a review on google about us. “Horribly unprepaired for the simplest of orders.” okay buddy, take the one star review and shove it up your ass.

11. Job 2- This one girl I go to school with got hired on. She seemed nice enough, we never talked before but apparently she knew me. She’s a decent worker (few nit-picky things, nothing bad) but… She makes me want to hit her sometimes. I get it, you’re trying to be funny/bubbly/joking/whatever, but I don’t know you well enough for you to be making jokes off of my appearance? I’m aware I that have a slightly larger than average head, I don’t like attention being drawn to it, especially randomly? We’re stretching dough and she just randomly says “You got a big ass head you know that? A big ass head.” and laughs. Like… Thanks, it’s not like that was a point of ridicule in the past or anything. And then while we’re washing dishes she gets mad and threatens to beat me for, wait for it, splashing her with water.

At the sink.

While doing dishes.

And she’s too extra with her reactions. Little extra is funny, I admit, but she is over the top. I was washing deep dish pans and a flake of bread flew off and hit her with some water. She spat and did that little “pthptpthpthtpht” thing  for almost an entire minute, then went on to say “We gonna throw hands if you do that again” I just… Kindly shut the fuck up and let me to dishes by myself if you’re gonna be such an extra [word that almost got this post deleted] like that okay? Just kindly fuck off.

I have plenty more but I feel like this post is too long as is. Enjoy my suffering and expect more to come.

[themanuelruello]

3 Home Dairy Myths That Are Holding You Back

It’s kinda like a status symbol.

That bowl of ricotta on my counter that I just made myself? It gives me rockstar status y’all. And I know I’m not the only one. For many folks who dream of homesteading, not much would make them feel like they’ve “arrived” more than successfully creating delicious dairy products at home.

I know for me, home dairy completely captured my imagination at the beginning of our homestead journey. Every time when I realized another dairy item that I could actually make myself, well folks it was like the skies opened and the angels sang. 

Yet so many of you who want to conquer home dairy haven’t started. Why?

3 Common Home Dairy Myths That Are Holding You Back

I think your hesitation towards home dairy may come down to 3 home dairy myths (#1 might be the biggest). So today, y’all we are doing some myth busting.

Myth #1: You have to have a cow.

Thank goodness myth #1 is simply not true. Because I know most of you aren’t exactly in situations where you can keep a dairy animal. You may have a few chickens in your suburban backyard, or maybe you have an acre or two but not enough room for a full-size milk cow. Or, maybe you live in the heart of a metropolitan city and don’t even have a source of homegrown milk. I still got ya’ covered. Trust me. You can make your own dairy products, in your own kitchen, no matter where that kitchen is.

Michelle Visser is going to be the guinea pig of the day to test out this myth. In addition to being a member of The Prairie Homestead team, Michelle is the owner of SoulyRested.com, author of Sweet Maple (aff link), and has recently been featured in Mother Earth News and Whole Foods Magazine.

But a tragedy hit Michelle’s New England homestead last spring. A barn fire meant her family had to rehome their dairy cows. She told me she hasn’t made one stick of homemade butter or one jar of fresh-made yogurt since last March. When I asked her why–and she commented that home dairy wouldn’t be any good without fresh, raw milk–I realized this myth needed to go to the top of my myth-busting list.

Michelle will tell you more about her story–and her recent home dairy success (no cow required!)–in just a minute.

What you need to know if you don’t own a cow or goat

Find raw milk if you can… If you don’t have your own dairy animal, my best recommendation is always going to be getting the milk raw from a local farm or a friend with a dairy animal. (If that’s legal in your state; sadly it used to be illegal in Wyoming.)

Share a cow if possible… If you live in a state where you cannot legally purchase raw milk, you may be able to cow share. A cow share involves a small dairy farm, where you purchase partial ownership in a cow, which naturally comes with rights to some of the milk. Ask around at your local organic food hubs to see if you can find a cow share option.

Use regular store milk if you don’t have raw milk… When our cow is dried up, I purchase our raw milk at our local organic food store–I get Kalona organic milk. It is pasteurized, but it is low-temperature vat pasteurized, so it’s not quite cooked as long as your typical milk, and it’s grass fed. And I love that it still has cream on top! But you can definitely use regular gallons of whole milk from the regular-old grocery store too. (See Michelle’s example below.)

Avoid UHT milk… UHT stands for “ultra heat treated” milk, which means it’s been heated to the point of sterilization. So it turns out that UHT milk acts really weird in home dairy recipes… it’s simply been changed too much to be able to make cheese or yogurt or butter with it.

Myth #2: It’s just about the cheese.

Most folks think that home dairy entails making a big block of cheddar or Parmesan–some sort of hard cheese.

The reality? Many of my home dairy recipes aren’t cheese at all. In fact, I make very little hard cheese.

My favorite home dairy items? Ricotta, yogurt, buttermilk, and butter.

And, when home dairy IS about cheese? Well, there’s a huge added BONUS. It’s not just about the ricotta, but it’s also about the whey. You see, by making delicious soft cheeses yourself, you wind up with lots of whey. You might want to check out my list of 16 Uses of Whey if you don’t know why this makes me happy.

So, in the end, if you think that home dairy equals having a cheese press and a cheese cave, I’m very happy to inform you that you’re wrong. In fact, I challenge you to think about the dairy items you’re purchasing on a regular basis and start researching how to make homemade replacements instead.

To make it super easy for you, I made a handy downloadable with my favorite 4 home dairy recipes all in one place–not to mention a sweet coupon code toward awesome home dairy products from New England Cheesemaking Supply Co., my favorite go-to place for all things home dairy. Just go here to snag my Home Dairy Recipes printable. {NEED LINK}

Myth #3: You have to invest a lot of time.

I think there’s a common thought process out there that if you’re going to be making at-home dairy products, it has to become your new, all-consuming hobby.

Here’s the deal. Home dairy is not complicated. It doesn’t have to be.

Now if you want to take your home dairy passion and turn it into a full-fledge hobby, you absolutely can. But here’s the thing, while we all want to have better food, not all of us want to become artisan bread bakers or cheesemongers who spend 20 hours a week crafting bread and cheddar.

Here’s the good news… There’s a middle ground. You can make your own sourdough breads, and fermented sauerkraut, and canned foods, and your homemade dairy stuff without letting any of it consume your busy calendar.

I’ve always been fascinated by this idea of slow food. Slow food stands in great contrast to the world of fast food, but there’s something about slow food that most folks don’t realize. So read on…

What you need to know about slow food

It’s pretty hands-off… While the slow foods we’re crafting at home take many hours to reach completion, most of that time is hands-off time.

It’s about checking in on things… Even when I have my kitchen in full swing and I’m fermenting, and cheesemaking, and sourdoughing (yeah, that’s not a verb. But it should be don’t ya think?), it’s more about checking in on things in the kitchen once in a while. It’s not about being in there 24-7. Thank goodness. Because I got things to do, y’all, and standing in my kitchen for hours on end isn’t one of them.

It’s much simpler than you think… Homemade dairy is often as simple as taking a jar of milk, stirring in some culture, making sure it’s the right temperature, and leaving it alone. It’s just not a complicated process. You don’t have to babysit it. You could often do home dairy before you leave for work in the morning and finish it when you get home.

So, no, you don’t have to invest a lot of time when you’re making home dairy products. In fact, it might be one of the simplest ways I know to be part of something magical.

Let’s be honest, when I transform white liquid into a glorious chuck of golden yellow butter… well if that doesn’t make me a Dairy David Cooperfield, I don’t know what would.

So how did Michelle do as the guinea pig, working at debunking myth #1? You know, that idea that you have to have a cow if you want to make home dairy products?

Living Proof that these Common Home Dairy Myths are Meant to be Busted

Thanks, Jill, for making me a case study in this whole myth busting effort. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you did!

I haven’t made cheese or yogurt for six months, since we had a barn fire and needed to find a new home for our sweet cows. Boy I miss them & the cheese, ice cream, butter, and yogurt. I just had no idea that any yogurt or cheese I make with store-bought milk could ever be so good! So I never tried.

But I finally did it. My daughters and I were skeptical. But we took the plunge, ordered a few things from New England Cheese Supply Co., picked up a few gallons of whole milk from the store, followed your directions in your Home Dairy Recipes download, and we made both ricotta and yogurt last night. (Maybe tonight we’ll make some butter & buttermilk!)

The results? Both the ricotta and the yogurt were absolutely delicious. With no cow required! Myth busted.

It’s Time for You to Work Some Home Dairy Magic!

So what common myth about home dairy is holding you back?

I encourage you to try this amazing thing called home dairy. Try it this week. Or put it on your bucket list. Make a decision to expand in your homestead repertoire of skills and make home dairy the next step.

It’s really enjoyable.

It’s really easy.

And, seriously, homemade dairy is really delicious. So give it a try.

And for a limited time New England Cheesemaking Supply Co. has put together a special home dairy kit–just for The Prairie Homestead tribe–that will make sure you have everything you need (well, minus the milk) for making every one of my favorite home dairy recipes.

Download my Home Dairy Recipes printable and you’ll find a coupon code for an additional 10% off any and all of your purchases–on the already discounted special kit, or anything at all. 

Heck you might want to try your hand at that idea of hard cheese after all and order their amazing cheese press at 10% off, or maybe you have some folks on your gift-giving list who would like a butter churn, or butter paddles, or a super-fun cheesemaking kit for beginners.

Enjoy it all at 10%. But hurry! Download the printable of recipes and snag that coupon code inside that download before it expires at midnight EST on Wednesday, November 27th.

More resources you’re sure to love:

You may love learning more about slow food–and how it’s much simpler than you think–in my Heritage Cooking Crash Course.

And don’t forget to snag my Home Dairy Recipes right here.

  The post 3 Home Dairy Myths That Are Holding You Back appeared first on The Prairie Homestead.

from Gardening https://www.theprairiehomestead.com/2019/11/home-dairy-myths.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

[toddkelly2]

24 Hours of Firsts

24 Hours of Firsts

By: Aaron Retzlaff

There are times as an avid outdoorsman where you are able to share your passion and obsession for the great outdoors with others. A rarity occurs when that opportunity becomes a time stamp in a relationship between close friends. 

Exploring the great outdoors offers endless, priceless opportunities to create lifelong memories with friends and family. The 2018 Wisconsin gun deer season offered one of those opportunities, of which I was fortunate enough to take advantage.

During college I was lucky enough to have a teammate and roommate with whom I developed a close friendship. I roomed with Jared Gjertson all four years of college and we are roommates once again (along with one other former teammate), as Jared studies law at the University of Wisconsin Law School.

Jared and I have shared time turkey hunting in the spring and fishing during the summer and winter months. After turkey hunting in the spring of 2018 Jared, having completed hunter safety just weeks earlier, expressed interest in accompanying me on a whitetail hunt. I told Jared I could do him one better; I would let him take the hot seat and I would accompany HIM. He immediately agreed.

Fast forward to the fall of 2018. I had permission to hunt a property with an overabundance of doe. I watched a significant amount of doe activity all throughout the bow season and held off, knowing that Jared would be in the stand come gun season in November.

With limiting schedules, Jared and I only had a 24 hour period to make his first harvest happen. Jared arrived at my house around noon on Thanksgiving and thus the 24 hours of first time experiences began. We had a solid plan for the next 24 hours and Jared was excited. First on the agenda was taking the rifle out and letting Jared shoot several practice rounds at a target. Although he had some experience shooting a shotgun, he had never shot a rifle before and I wanted to establish a comfortable range for him to make a confident, ethical and fatal shot. After getting acquainted with the .30-30 lever action and firing 7-8 rounds, Jared was more comfortable with shooting and had his confidence increased. Let’s remember this was his first time ever shooting a rifle and we were headed to the woods just hours later.

After a tasty Thanksgiving dinner with my family, Jared and I prepared for our first sit. Due to weather conditions and wanting Jared to have an enjoyable experience, I decided against the property I had watched all fall; and instead received permission to use a close friend’s Shadow Hunter box blind, which looked over an acre food plot.  Again, another first for Jared. The action that afternoon was slower than expected. My friend had built up our excitement by sharing that a regular group of does had been feeding on the food plot around an hour before dark, but unfortunately, we only saw a few yearling does and a two and a half year old buck that was busted up and not on the hit list. Even though that buck was off limits, this encounter gave Jared his first opportunity to see a mature buck through the scope of a rifle. The buck grazed in front of us for nearly 20 minutes as Jared and I watched his every move. I enjoyed the opportunity to share that time in the stand that afternoon and answer some of Jared’s questions as well as teach him a few things about this great sport.

That evening, venison from a prior harvest was ready to be picked up from the local butcher my family used. I knew Jared would be intrigued by this as it was, you guessed it, another first time opportunity. Enjoyed it he did. He was fascinated by the process of how deer are handled from the moment after the kill to the final packaging of the meat. While we were at the “Meatshop” we had the pleasure of sharing some time with fellow hunters who were there picking up meat and helping process other deer. It was cool for Jared to experience that shared comradery between whitetail hunters.

The next morning the pressure was on. The weather was right for us to sit in a blind I had set up weeks before and I was very confident that we would have a chance at Jared’s first whitetail. Up early and to the stand well before sunlight, Jared and I were settled and waiting for the sun to rise over the freshly frosted picked soy bean field.

We heard minimal action in the woods to our back and as the sun peaked over the horizon, so did our hopes that one of those furry white tails would soon show.

As if we wrote our own script that morning, about 25 minutes after the sun rose and just as they had done all fall, two mature does stepped out of the woods southwest of our location. I had a good inclination of the direction they were headed and I made sure Jared could see them and was comfortable and prepared for his shot. 

The series of events that followed happened rather quickly. The first of the two does started heading on a straight line for the woods to our right. Its gradual walk turned into a slight trot and the doe was soon under 100 yards away. Not wanting to lose this opportunity for my friend, I quickly asked Jared if he was ready and if he could see the doe through his scope. He answered, “Yes, I got it.” I told him I was going to stop the doe and at that point he would have his shot……

The doe approached 65 yards when I let out a quick grunt. Just as I hoped, the doe stopped dead in her tracks and provided a clean broadside shot. THIS WAS IT, IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN…..At this point the trigger should be pulled and the doe harvested quickly and ethically.

After the quick grunt, the doe stood, confused, trying to locate where the sound came from. We were only a few split seconds away from the deer bolting! I quickly whispered to Jared, each time becoming a little more intense, “Now, shoot…..shoot…..shoot!” BOOM!!!!!!……

What happened next was a moment I will never forget about this hunt. I was looking over Jared’s shoulder the whole time and after he pulled that trigger I knew what had just taken place. The doe’s front left shoulder/leg tucked up tight, telling me Jared had made an excellent shot in the vitals. I was so excited for him I put my arm around him and told him with great emotion, “You smoked her, you got her, good job!!!!!” I could tell Jared seemed unsure about his shot, as he had never before had this experience. I reassured him that she was down not far into the woods and after giving her a few minutes we would head out to claim his trophy.

That we did. As we headed out of the blind and walked over to the point of contact to search for the start of the blood trail, I soon realized this track job would be over before it began. I looked up and only 15 yards from where it stood when Jared shot, his first trophy whitetail doe lay on the edge of the woods, harvested quickly and ethically. Finally, Jared let out a breath of relief and smiled as he had accomplished what he came to do. Then of course, last but not least, Jared happily dragged his deer out of the field and learned how to properly gut/skin out a whitetail.

This was and forever will be 24 hours I will never forget. Being able to assist a genuine friend and an even better person on his first hunt ever, brought me more joy than I have ever experienced hunting on my own. Exploring the great outdoors provides unforgettable opportunities like this and is one of the many reasons why I am proud to call myself an outdoorsman. Congratulations Jared!!

  For more article CLICK HERE

The post 24 Hours of Firsts appeared first on Morning Moss.

from Morning Moss http://morningmoss.com/13658-2/

[trustmsfox]

The First Six Months

Wow. My little dude is 6 months old. Half a year. 26 weeks. It feels like a bit of a landmark moment so I guess I should record some of the highs and lows that we have been through along the way. When I was pregnant people said things like "Having a baby eh? It's the hardest job you'll ever do" and "It's amazing but so tough." Personally I think those comments are misleading as it's not the hardness or the toughness of the last 6 months that has taken me aback, it's the INTENSITY. If you ask me, having a baby is one of the most intense things you can ever do (I've never climbed a really tall mountain, run a marathon or lived by myself in a foreign country, so I can't compare). It's a relentless, 24 hours a day, overwhelming, always-on, rollercoaster of ALL THE FEELS. I've never felt so many things, from one extreme to another, in such a short space of time. Allow me to elaborate... I'll keep it to the top 10 feels, in the interests of time.

1. Happy

Pure unadulterated joy; I'm not even sure those three words do this feeling justice. The first time I felt this was when my son was born. I may have been drugged up to the eyeballs (well, technically up to the armpits actually as I had an emergency C section) but that moment is burned into my brain and my retina forever. "He's coming out now" the doctor said, I looked at my husband and burst into tears. All those months of worrying and waiting and lugging around my giant distended body... our baby was finally here. There was a second's pause, which felt like an eternity, and then we heard a good healthy cry. I don't think I've ever heard a better sound. It actually brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. "It's a boy!" my husband said (we had decided to keep the sex a surprise) and I blubbed even harder. I would have been happy whether it was a boy or a girl, but the joy of finally finding out the secret our baby had been keeping all along was just magical. Then suddenly our brand new baby boy was placed on my chest and all I could think was "Oh my god he's massive!" I kissed his nose and felt like I had known him all my life. For that moment I will be eternally grateful, as I know not everyone feels like this when their child is born, for a variety of reasons (hormones are a bitch). Unfortunately I then realised I needed to throw up and spent the next 20 minutes doing that, whilst my husband did the fun stuff like cutting the cord and cuddling our brand new baby.

2. Anxious

So much anxiety, for so many reasons. It comes and goes like a shitty nit picky irritating Auntie who keeps "popping in" for a cuppa, uninvited. How much is he supposed to nap? Is he napping enough, too much, how do I get him to sleep??? If I go to Tesco will he wake up? Is he breathing? I know I just checked, but is he still breathing? Will the cat sleep on his head? Will I roll over and crush him in my sleep? Will I fall down the stairs carrying him? Is he still alive (nearly every time I drove for more than 5 minutes with him in the car)? Should I give him calpol? If I give him formula will he be ok? Did I sterilise those bottles already or shall I put them on again? If I drink this glass of wine will it go into my breast milk? What if a I find a spider in his cot? I haven't texted a bunch of people back - will they still be my friends? Will I ever lose this baby weight? I could go on, but I'm sure you get the idea. Most of this is totally irrational, but that's just how it goes when you're not getting regular good amounts of deep sleep or REM. It's a fucker.

3. Amazed

The "firsts" really are incredible, but for me the truly amazing thing is how quickly these new skills become normal and then you're onto something new. One minute you're pulling out all the stops to try and get a little smile, next minute you're tickling the b'jesus out of them and they are giggling so deliciously you think you might combust. One minute you're watching them struggle and kick and desperately try to roll over, the next minute you're thinking "Fuck, I need a stair gate, this kid is about to crawl!" One minute you're cursing that sodding creaky floorboard, as you gently place them back in their Moses basket and creep back into bed, the next minute they're in their own room and when you put them down for the night you actually miss them (I’m aware that’s utterly ridiculous but it happens every night!)

4. Helpless

I had this a lot and the feeling intensified particularly after my son developed THE SCREAM. I think THE SCREAM is probably worthy of its own blog post, so I won't go into all the detail, but suffice it to say my son is capable of an eardrum-bursting, blood-curdling, terrifying, horror movie scream that sounds like a piglet being tortured to death. At his 16 week jabs, when he really got into his stride with it, the nurse looked at me and said "I've never heard a baby make a sound like that", which made me feel a bit better as she makes babies cry for a living. My son has other cries, which I can just about cope with, but once he developed THE SCREAM it meant that all other cries could escalate into THE SCREAM at any given moment. I lived in permanent fear of it. Sometimes unfortunately I'd be in a position where I couldn't fix the problem. For instance, being late for a feed whilst being stuck in traffic in the car, or mis-timing a pushchair nap and having to run around trying to get ready to leave the house while listening to him wailing. I can't count the amount of times I felt trapped, helpless and overwhelmed when all I ever tried to do was anticipate his needs to avoid a screaming fit, got it wrong and he did it anyway. Then of course there were times when he just shouted at me for what seemed like no reason at all; they were equally as fun.

5. Exhausted

I once said to my husband "My soul is tired" and it quickly became a running joke because it sounded so melodramatic, but I still honestly think it's the only way I've ever come close to describing the exhaustion I have experienced. It's not like normal tiredness because there's never a Saturday lie in or an early night on the horizon to catch up. There is no catching up. You just have to adapt to running on 15% battery, unless of course you're gifted a sleepy baby, and even then I still think looking after them all day long is pretty goddamn knackering anyway.

6. Love

In one of my darkest times, on the phone to a counselling service, I was asked "How do you feel towards your baby?" I know I was being asked the red flag questions for post-natal depression but my answer came from the heart: "I love my son so much it terrifies me." I think that's a fairly good summation of how intense the feelings can be. Initially you love a little pink squawky thing, which is kind of like the love you have for a pet, because it’s cute. Then, as time goes on, it grows into love for an actual little person, who has their own personality and feelings and stuff. This kind of love is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced, because I love someone who is growing and changing every day, right in front of my eyes. It takes your breath away.

7. Overwhelmed

Every now and then I have these moments where this feeling bubbles up inside of me and I just hit a wall of overwhelmed-ness, if there is such a thing. It usually follows an episode of my little guy bawling his eyes out, or busting out THE SCREAM, but sometimes it just appears out of the blue, triggered by something really small that reminds me how co-dependent my son and I are right now. I am a super independent person, didn’t have a baby until well into my 30s and I’m basically running the show by myself day to day as we don’t have family nearby, so I think this is one of the things I struggle with the most. When you can’t take a shit in peace, when you can’t just get yourself a glass of water, when you can’t hang up the washing, when you can’t leave the house without seven tonnes of shit, when sometimes you can’t even leave the house, it can just feel so immensely overwhelming that you don’t know what to do with yourself. But then it passes, you get your act together and you get on with it, because that’s the way it is.

8. Relief

"He's asleep." These two words are the source of the most immeasurable amount of relief. Whether it’s naps or nighttime, there are weeks and weeks where the sleep is just so hard-won. The feeling of sheer relief when you see their little eyes flutter closed and their arms flop back behind their head is just unreal. For some moments, there might be some peace for both of you, and that is a thing to be enjoyed... while it lasts!

9. Unqualified

The responsibility of it all. Jesus Christ! This feeling is behind the moments I've had where I've just wanted to hand my son to a stranger, not because I didn’t love him or want him, but because I just didn’t know what he wanted and I desperately wanted someone else to tell me what to do. You can read all the books in the world, do an NCT course, talk to your friends with kids, but no one can tell you how your kid works. They don’t come with a manual and I’m still utterly astounded by how completely different they can be, right out of the proverbial box.

10. Smooshy

I don't really know how to describe this one, but it's like when you see a dog with big sad eyes, or a fluffy bunny, or a baby's chubby cheeks, and the cuteness of them bubbles up inside you and you want to bite them and squeeze them and you find yourself doing that baby voice and shouting "Yes you are!" You've all felt that at some point, right? Yes? It's not just me? Oh thank god. Anyway, yes, that. Sometimes when I look at my little boy, I just think he is so goddamn cute I just want to nibble his cheeks and kiss him from head to toe. Gah!!!!

So yeah, the first 6 months have been fairly rollercoaster-y, but much as the real lows have been lonely dark horrible places, the highs have been higher than I ever could imagined. They’ve been these incredible eye-popping, heart-busting, breath-stealing, stomachs-fluttering moments that I will treasure for as long as I live. If the lows were the price I paid for the highs, then they were worth it a million times over.

[deer-diary]

24/04/2018

so... a diary . or journal , or whatever you wanna call this . haven’t kept one of these since i was in primary school , and i’m not sure how i’m gonna go about keeping up with it . i’ve got such a terrible track record with staying committed to things ( see: everything i’ve attempted and quickly given up on in my life. i still plan on going back to boxing sometime ) . but ! as i learned through SMNTY ( stuff mom never told you ) , keeping a journal has a lot of benefits , allowing you to regulate your stress and make you happier in the long run ( as long as you’re actually using it as a release + to examine yourself and the ways you can be better , i suppose ? )

and who doesn’t want to become happier ? so let’s give this a go .

today , i want to talk about two things that are currently inspiring me . 1. lara croft , and 2. terry crews .

i haven’t been able to stop thinking about lara croft since watching tomb raider . i loved everything about her - her independence, her lifestyle, her attitude . she’s the definition of kick-ass ! and holy shit am i in love with alicia vikander . ( but that’s a diary entry for another day ) . i’m also obsessed with the workouts alicia did to get into shape for the role - and that’s really what the overarching theme of today’s diary entry is . it’ll probably be an overarching theme of a lot of my diary entries.

i want to squeeze in here one of my favourite motivational tumblr posts: evaluate your fitness as a measure of how well you’d survive as a member of the fellowship of the ring. ( or the zombie apocalypse ; tbt my zombies! run phase ) . that’s definitely one of the best ways to motivate lil ol’ nerd me .

alicia busted her ass to get into shape to become lara croft , and i adore how strong she looked in the movie . how capable . i’m determined to adapt parts of that lifestyle into mine , for some positive , healthy change . lara croft is adaptable , lara croft can survive in the harshest of conditions and come out fighting . to that end ,

1. i’ve been trying to go on more swims , runs , hikes and nature walks ( next stop : sublime point ) .

2. i want to take up kick-boxing again , and really stick to it this time ( this may have to come after i come back from europe , when i’m no longer saving up for the holiday of a life-time . in the meantime though , there’s always youtube videos ! )

3. i want to get a bicycle ( been saying it for years , and again , this’ll probably have to come after europe ) .

4. rock-climbing ! i so want to become a regular at hang-dog , but i really have to work on my upper body and core strength first . guess those workouts with richard might be good for something after all !

5. parkour ?? a kick-ass dream of mine for years , but i’m not sure there are any facilities around wollongong that cater to that . maybe someday.

6. archery . surely that’s something i can do for my birthday this year ? a special class in archery . hell yeah .

and that’s probably enough on lara croft for now . i’m sure i’ll talk about her more in entries to come , but now it’s time to discuss terry crews and everything i love about him . this morning i listened to startalk by neil degrasse tyson , the episode where he interviewed terry crews .

( fun fact : terry crews has star wars wallpaper . he’s one of the good ones . also , where do i have to go to get star wars wallpaper ? )

mental note to remember what terry crews said about the gym : treat it like a spa . treat workouts as something that will make you feel good . because otherwise , it gets really hard to stick to it as a habit . i think i’m already about three-quarters of the way there ; i look forward to picking out a different workout every day , i always have some good music pumping , and once i start , i immediately feel better . one thing i should work on though , is fitting in more cardio . strength-training , stretching , i’ve got those two things on lock . but i’m just so bad about being motivated to do cardio . and if i’m really serious about losing those extra kilos , i have to keep everything in balance .

that also extends to diet . i had a fledgling attempt at a 16:8 diet - that is , 16 hours of fasting , 8 hour eating window - earlier this year , that never really took off . i was miserable in the morning , i didn’t know anyone who committed to something like that . but guess what i just found out ? terry crews does the 16:8 diet , and look at him . i might just have to give it another go . 12pm to 8pm eating window , let’s do this . ( starting tomorrow , because i already ate my breakfast ) .

this has already become quite the lengthy diary entry , so i might quit here . still trying to figure out what sort of format i want these entries to have , or if i just want to keep everything loosey-goosey . but i think i want to sign off every time with something i am thankful for .

today i am thankful for : tomb raider ( 2018 ) . what a movie . when’s the HD version gonna leak online ??

[jkdavidson-blog]

Standing Rock Recap Part IV (12/24-12/27)

24 December 2016

 A post from Facebook, which accompanied several photos from camp:

Some late photos from my wanderings around camp on the Solstice...I walked across the Cannonball River, frozen solid, and offered tobacco to the land and the water. Just a couple of hours meandering through camp completely wore me out and reminded me to be gentle with myself, as I am still on the mend. But it was well worth the fresh air and sunshine.

In other news, looks like we will be enjoying a very white Christmas here at Standing Rock. The forecast is calling for 12-18inches of snow tomorrow and white-out blizzard conditions. So I guess my biggest dilemma today is where do I want to position myself for that time? Must consult my guides and angels on that one...

Happy Saturday, Merry Christmas Eve, and lots of love and hugs to you all!!

 Christmas Eve was one of my favorite days of all at Standing Rock, mainly because of the good company I enjoyed and the sweat lodge I was blessed to be a part of. I wrote pretty extensively about these experiences already, thought, so I won’t rehash them here. I’ll just say again how thankful I am for the privilege of this experience. Aho!

Go forward without fear, But walk humbly, And walk always in prayer.

  25 December 2016

 Well, it certainly has been a Christmas to remember.

Yesterday I spent the day at Rosebud camp. I hung out in the latrines for a bit, because it happens to be one of the warmest places around. I warmed my frosty toes by the barrel stove as Nahko played on someone's blue tooth speaker. People stopped and chatted with me, and even thanked me for being there, assuming that I was the volunteer watching tending the place. There is so much gratitude being offered here, all the time, & that's a powerful thing! One woman asked me to hold her baby while she took her toddler to the potty. What an unexpected joy to hold this quiet, wide-eyed wonder...what an honor for that woman to trust me enough hand her precious infant over to me without thinking twice.

On my walk back toward the medical tent, I happened by an inipi (sweat lodge) where a man was heating stones for a ceremony. "She wants to join! Come have a seat!" He announced so confidently, I knew I'd finally found a sweat lodge to partake in. An indigenous man gave up his seat beside the fire-tender for me. I sat beside Mike, a Lakota man, and he instructed me briefly about the ceremony and told me when the stones would be hot, when I should return to that space.

I returned as the sun was setting, wrapped in a skirt according to Lakota tradition. We stood with our heads uncovered in the wind and snow as Mike said a blessing. As the only woman present, I was asked to enter the lodge first. I stripped away my boots and layers hastily in the 20-degree weather, bowed before the inipi, and crawled inside.

All of the other men except one were Natives, and much of what was said was in their indigenous tongue but I listened to the feeling of the words and even found myself singing along with them. They honored and thanked me for showing up there to represent the feminine and balance the lodge. It was a deeply humbling experience, like so many of my other encounters here.

Two coyotes appeared by our medical tent after the lodge, so close I mistook them for dogs. But they weren't threatening, just passing through.

Tonight, I enjoy a sharp contrast as I sit in the casino lobby observing how different the cultureand vibe are here, between 4 walls, versus that at camp amidst circular dwellings, prayers, and fresh frosty air.

As I write this, I'm over 1,200 miles from my hometown. I've never spent Christmas away from my biological family, but I've gotten enough greetings from friends and family around the country to warm my heart on this cold North Dakota day. Thank you, everyone.

I didn't unwrap any presents today, but I did receive the gift of my sense of taste returning! Tasting and smelling everything I've eaten today for the first time in a week has been a pretty big treat!

Other than that, today was a day of healing, rest, and solitude. I'll be honest, at times I felt really lonely. But that loneliness has transformed to joyful affirmation as I've realized the power in an unexpected opportunity for quiet self-reflection.

I spent some time in the casino lobby beading this afternoon. A man reading in the chair beside me got up at one point and beckoned me over to the window to admire the snow. He was from San Diego and had never seen a whiteout. He asked me what I was doing there, and I explained about coming to help out with medical but ending up sick most of the time myself. "I came here with a desire to learn about different healing modalities, but I didn't know I'd have to use them all on myself," I said. "But that's the best way!" He exclaimed. "You're a healer...and you've got to heal the healer, too. Keep taking good care of yourself, " he told me. A good reminder.

This place has gifted me with so much. I came here to give and to serve, but I feel that I've received so much more than I've given so far. Of course, it doesn't end here. Standing Rock is everywhere. Prayer reaches everywhere. There are plenty of places in need of the kind of gifts I've received here over the past two weeks, and I am so eager to share what I've gained in my short time here.

Here. As they say, they call it "the present" because it's a gift. I hope that your weekend, dear friends, however you have chosen to spend or celebrate it, has been warm, peaceful, and joyful. Thanks to those of you who read this whole thing. That's commitment! I appreciate you and your interest every bit as much as you've appreciated my words. I hope they've uplifted you in some way.

Wherever you are, know that I am sending you love from the great white plains of North Dakota, and peace and respect and compassion too! Aho mitakuye oyasin!

  26 December 2016

 With the winter weather advisory behind us, I returned to camp today. My car windows were coated in ice and snow from the “blizzard,” but I had seen plows on the road that morning so I figured it was probably driveable. I was waiting in the lobby, warming my fingers while the car engine warmed up in the parking lot, when a young man approached me and asked if I was returning to camp. I told him I was, and he asked if I might have room for him and a friend to ride along. I told him I surely did.

I went out the check on the car. By the time I returned, his friend had joined him in the lobby. The young man who first approached me appeared Native American, although I can’t recall now where he said he was from. His name was Josh. His friend Ian was from Canada. We got acquainted, chatting in the lobby, until the ice on my car was loose enough to chip away. The three of us piled in the Kia and headed North on 1806.

Most of the road was easily passable, granted I took my time and stayed alert. There were abandoned vehicles here and there beside the road. Some were halfway buried in snow already; others were more recently abandoned and might still be recovered easily if the owners returned soon. Still others were busted and wrecked; it would be anyone’s guess when they would be moved.

The wind was intense, blowing clouds of white across the road so that it was difficult to see more than 6 or 8 feet ahead of the vehicle. In some places, the wind had blown snow into the road, so that, although it had been plowed, it was quickly covered over again, several inches deep. Once we hit the last mile or so of highway before the turn into camp, suddenly the road was covered all the way across in 2 or 3 inches of snow. Taken by surprise, I started to lose control of the car but recovered it quickly. The first thoughts that came to mind was that the street had never even been plowed here—“Nice, they’re trying to hinder traffic into and out of camp!” I thought cynically—but as we slid slowly forward, I realized the road had been plowed here. This was just one big snow drift.

At last, the camps were in sight. I scoped out the driveway to Rosebud, which was caked in snow all carved into ruts. I picked what I thought would be the best way to approach and swung the wheel to the right—and got stuck. My passengers were quick to jump out of the car to push. They tried to move the car a few times, but it became clear we’d need a shovel to dig out the wheels. Another couple approached us; they seemed to be planning to head southbound on the highway, into the mess we’d just come out of, in a sedan of all things! They had a shovel though, and came to our aid. Josh and Ian came up with a couple of shovels too, and they all worked around the wheels while I briefed the couple on the road conditions ahead. I regretted not putting the tire chains on the Kia before leaving the casino, but I couldn’t do anything about that now.

Digging out the wheels worked, but most of Rosebud was still under several inches of loose snow. The regular driveway was out of service, and the alternate route seemed to be a road to nowhere as well. I got stuck one more time just beyond the entrance to camp, and my companions dug me out yet again. I ended up backing the Kia into a spot near the entrance to avoid any further hang-ups with the snow.

Josh and Ian kept right on shoveling for a while, trying to recover some of the driveway leading into to Rosebud. I gave Ian my mittens to wear while he worked, since he didn’t have any. He resisted the offer at first, but I assured him I was going straight to the medical tent, where it was warm and I wouldn’t need them.

I marched through the fresh snow, wondering if I should even stay at camp under those conditions. Not being able to get in or out easily made me nervous for some reason. Besides, I had come to relieve Rachel from her duties at Rosebud, so she could take a break for a few days and go pick up her boyfriend in Minnesota, but she wouldn’t be going anywhere in this weather. I’m not sure why I wanted to leave again so soon that day, but maybe I was just generally exhausted from my time there and was looking forward to going home soon.

As I turned down the side road leading to Rosebud medical, I encountered a pickup truck flanked by 6 or 7 water protectors wielding shovels, literally digging out the road as the truck went. I could tell they were working hard. I admired their dedication. I was already feeling a little drained myself, just from walking through the snow. I didn’t envy them for their task.

Rachel and Jacque were in the medical yurt when I arrived. They asked how I was doing. I told them I was slowly starting to feel better, except that I’d woken up with an ear infection the day before. Jacque shook her head in disbelief and sympathy and assured me she’d come up with something to treat my ear.

Rachel announced she’d be leaving the next day, as there were ice storms presently afflicting Minnesota. She intended to spend the afternoon doing another round of wellness visits. My presence there would be useful after all, I realized. I made up my mind to stay. After talking for them for a while, I headed back to my car to get a few things and put the chains on my wheels.

The pickup truck that I passed on my way in was almost to the main road when I returned. The diggers were still digging furiously ahead of it. I was impressed that they had cleared that whole way by hand. Ian and Josh were still digging by the main entrance, extending the area of passable road from that direction.

I set to work putting the tire chains on the Kia, trying to remember just how it was done in the YouTube video I’d watched a week or two earlier. I had actually been looking forward to doing this. I had to keep jumping in the car to warm my fingers, which became like icicles after only a few minutes outside, but I managed to get the chains installed and secured. They looked pretty damn good! I have to admit, I kind of felt like a badass for putting them on all by myself.

I spent that night at the medic yurt. I had to keep getting up to feed the wood stove, which had recently been installed to replace the propane heaters. I came to understand the inconvenience of a wood stove, when you’re trying to sleep through the night yet stay warm in an unforgiving winter wonderland. It was a long, cold night.

  27 December 2016

 I was a little groggy and grumpy this morning, which I blame on still being sick and having such interrupted sleep last night. Rachel packed up her things and left sometime between noon and two. We have a young physician helping out at Rosebud while Rachel is gone. His name is Steven, but the other ladies in the medical tent affectionately call him Snowflake. He’s a family medicine resident from California and has very little of the arrogance I’ve noted in a lot of other medical doctors, which is refreshing.

At some point during the day, I finally made a point to walk down to the new medical yurt I’ve been hearing so much about. It’s about three times as big as the current one. Herbal and allopathic medicine will still be practiced together in the new space. The yurt has windows and a sky light, so its inhabitants can enjoy natural light instead of the LED camping lights that illuminate the yurt they’re in now.

While I was there, I overheard Snowflake and the builders were discussing the logistics of setting up a trauma bay near the entrance, right down to the gritty details of needing waist-high tables in case there was a need to do CPR. The rest of the clinic will be curtained off, creating a more low-key space for regular consultations in the back. There will also be bunk beds for the medics to sleep in, and plenty of shelving for supplies. The building crews at Standing Rock are just phenomenal. They talk to whomever will be using the space they’re setting up to find out what is needed, sketch out their plans, and set right to building. It’s motivating just to watch them work.

After my visit to the new yurt, I decided to head back to the other medical yurt. I had a few things to check off my list before departing the next day, like emptying the compost toilet, dropping off the rest of my donations, and visiting the sacred fire, but first I needed to be able to feel my fingers and toes again. My time spent at camp was a constant rotation of going outside for a little while, then seeking warmth and shelter to rewarm my fingers and toes, which quickly became painfully cold and stiff in that weather. Jacque had given me a warming salve at one point, which contained cayenne and ginger extracts. If I rubbed this on my feet to promote blood flow, and kept switching out the foot warmers in my boots, I managed to get by with my feet only being numb a couple hours out of the day.

Such was my occupation as I was sitting in the medical yurt with Jacque, Snowflake, and Ann that day, listening to the radio. Gradually, the chatter became more frantic. Someone started calling for security to report to Turtle Island.

“Some people are down here arguing with the police,” a voice on the radio said.

In the background, there was commotion and shouting. It sounded like more than just “some people.” This went on for some time without any of us being able to figure out what was actually going on, but he kept the radios turned up, listening to them intently for any clue as to what was going on. Outside we heard a helicopter occasionally circle over the camp, as it had been doing for the past couple of hours, which was unusual. It must have been DAPL keeping an eye on us, and especially on Turtle Island.

It was beginning to get dark, and I remembered the few things I had left to do. I figured I’d take care of the compost toilet before the daylight faded any further, so I got up and left the yurt, where everyone else remained to await further news from the radio. Just as I turned right onto the main road toward the camp latrine, Jacque came running up behind me with the jump bag, which we kept stocked with medical supplies, on her back and darted left down the road. Orka and Camille happened to be passing by as well.

“Jacque, is everything okay?” I called out.

“Where are you going?” shouted Orka.

Jacque slowed to a trot and yelled over her shoulder that she was headed to Turtle Island. Orka and Camille took off behind her. I would have gone then too, except I was lugging around a bag of human waste I didn’t want to just leave by the side of the road. So I continued on to the latrines, wondering what could be going on at Turtle Island—wondering, where was Turtle Island anyway?

Once inside the comfortably warm latrine house, I noticed an electronic screeching sound. The lights in there were dim, and although I looked around I couldn’t quite figure out where it was coming from. I wondered if it was the radio, somehow scrambled by DAPL so we couldn’t communicate? I definitely needed to head to Turtle Island and see what was going on.

I hurried across camp to the security gate, near where my car was parked. I thought about going back to the medical tent to tell Snowflake and Ann where I was going, but decided that would take too much time. I asked security where Turtle Island was, and they pointed it out to me.

“See that hill off in the distance, with a few trees on top? That’s it,” said the young woman at the gate.

I also asked them if they had heard anything over the radio about what was going on. They exchanged questioning looks with one another. They had no idea. They picked up their radio to see if they could call someone and figure it out, but they weren’t getting the same chatter I’d heard earlier at the medical tent. I was in too much of a hurry to wait for a response, especially if the radios were being scrambled anyway. I thanked them for the directions and hopped into my car. The guy at the gate stalled me.

“Be careful, sister,” he emphasized. “It can get dangerous up there. Don’t go alone!”

I assured him I was going to join the other medics and wouldn’t be alone. I held my hand up in a peace sign as I pulled out of Rosebud, thankful I’d put my tire chains on.

I turned into Oceti, telling the gate guard simply that I was there to help out with medical. I tried to read him to see if he was aware of any commotion going on in camp, but he didn’t seem alarmed in the least and waved me right through. I kept my eyes on the hill with the trees and tried to get as close as I could by driving, but the pathways through camp were different now that there was so much snow, and it was hard to tell where the roads went when everything was white on white.

I parked the Kia somewhere that seemed relatively out of the way and took off on foot for Turtle Island. Handfuls of others were making their way in that direction too, some hurried and some walking more casually toward the river. I tried to take the most direct route, which turned out to be a rather snowy one. Here and there I found myself up to my knees in snow. But like I said, it was hard to pick out the walking paths, so I continued to march straight toward the island, feeling my legs tire out already. I stopped every now and then to take in the scene, and to catch my breath. The cold air was harsh on my lungs but I needed the oxygen.

A man was walking toward me from the opposite direction, heading back toward the main camp, and I asked him if he knew what was going on. He told me a few water protectors had been arrested, and now people were kind of just hanging around making a fuss about it. He shrugged, indicating he wasn’t a fan of their present tactics, then continued to make his way back toward Oceti.

Off in the distance, I could see Turtle Island, a steep mound in the middle of the river, maybe a third of a mile in length, and I couldn’t tell how wide because of the steep face that blocked the view of the rest of it. There was razor wire around the top of the island, where several official-looking SUVs were parked. People on the camp side were walking across the frozen river and climbing the steep hillside to perch themselves on the narrow ledge that remained outside the razor wire barricade. Someone was lugging a flag up there. I didn’t see anyone standing inside the razor wire. If there had been cops, they appeared to have retreated to their vehicles by now.

Once I was in sight of the river’s edge, I was able to recognize Jacque by her beige backpack and long skirt. I had a pounding headache from the exertion of running there. I might have overdone it a bit, I thought remorsefully, but at least I was warm.

“Hey,” I said to Jacque, once I reached her. She turned away from the hill and greeted me. “What’s going on?” I asked. “I heard some people got arrested.”

Jacque told me that earlier that day some people had climbed to the top of Turtle Island and cut the razor wire barricade.

“They got the canoes back!” she said.

She explained why she had run down there—there had been a request for medics at Turtle Island, and then the radio started to get scrambled so she was worried about what might be happening. But so far, there hadn’t been any violence.

Apparently, earlier on in the resistance, the water protectors had occupied Turtle Island. One day DAPL moved in, pushed everyone out, and set up their razor wire barricades. When they took control of the island, there were several canoes there, at least some of which they smashed in a show of dominance and dis-rez-spect toward to water protectors. The water protectors had tried before to reclaim those canoes (sometime back around Thanksgiving, I think) but were unsuccessful. I thought of the young man whom I’d talked to at Oceti medical during the one night shift I’d worked there. He was among several protectors who ended up in the river that day, he explained to me, as he sat before me with lungs full of pneumonia.

But this time, the effort was a success. They had reclaimed the canoes, and although some had been arrested, that was such a minor consequence compared to the backlash other actions had provoked.

I understood, then, why people were climbing the hill, singing and cheering and waving their flags. This was a victory celebration. There didn’t seem to be much going on besides that and the helicopter circling around and around, until we noticed a few vehicles coming down the road toward the island. The one in front was massive. It looked like a tank to me, but someone else suggested it could also be a water cannon. Behind it were two more large vehicles, possibly armored cars or at least military Hummers. They turned off the road across the river from where we were gathered and sat there facing us for the next 20 or 30 minutes.

Orka and Camille approached Jacque and me to say they were going to walk down the river bank to get a better view of what was on top of Turtle Island. Meanwhile, Jacque and I watched the crowd from a distance. One man was pacing the width of the crowd near the base of the island, holding a bundle of burning sage. Others sang and held their hands up to the sky in prayer and thanks. Some young spunky white man dashed down to the frozen river shouting and hooting. We watched him strip off his warm clothes and replace them with only a fur jacket. He dashed up the hill with a costume shield strapped to one forearm and continued to holler as he did obscene dances and waved his genitalia at the SUVs on the other side of the razor wire. These are the types of goofballs that discredit the who,le resistance, I thought. I remembered the disparaging remarks of the man I’d passed earlier on my way down to the river.

“I hope he doesn’t become our next hypothermia patient,” I said to Jacque.

“I’m hoping no one falls off the hill and breaks something!” she replied, cringing as people gripped tree limbs and rocks to make their way to the top of Turtle Island. Others slid downhill on their butts, like it was a sled ride but with no sled. We stood and watched mostly in silence until Orka and Camille returned.

“You can’t see them from here, but there are about 30 SUVs and armored vehicles on top of the hill,” Orka told us, “plus a bunch of officers on snowmobiles. If anything goes down, they’ll all be here in about 30 seconds.” Camille stood quietly by Orka’s side, as he usually did. If he spoke, it was mostly in French.

I looked toward to hillside, trying to imagine the scene Orka described. Some people had broken off from the main group and were walking the perimeter of razor wire. I said a silent prayer that no one would instigate anything further. It sounded like we were outnumbered. As far as I could tell, getting the canoes back was victory enough for one day. I hoped they’d finish celebrating soon and come back down the hill. It was getting dark, I was getting cold, and my head was pounding.

Eventually people did start to come down the hill. Someone had made a small fire to keep us warm. A few guys were calling for people to regroup and head to the bridge where highway 1806 was barricaded.

“This is how we waste their money,” one of the organizers explained to Jacque and me with a mischievous grin. “We keep them hopping around, back and forth. Give them something to do.”

Others threw around the wild suggestion of setting up camp and hanging out there for the night. From a medic standpoint, I wasn’t a fan of having people out here overnight, in the cold, facing off with the DAPL forces in the dark. In general, it seemed like the crowd was dissipating. Jacque and I decided to go. Orka and Camille wanted to stay.

While I waited for Jacque, I overheard a voice saying, “Did you see the buffalo over there?” That got my attention. I turned around and saw a man was pointing off in the distance toward another hilltop. It was too far away to say for certain that these were buffaloes, but I definitely saw the large dark figures gathered there, some in clusters, some more spread apart. They had been watching us all along.

As we walked back through the snow toward my car, I wondered out loud about the principles of the action we’d just witnessed. I was happy the canoes had been reclaimed, but I had also noticed that some people just seemed to want to be part of the excitement. I thought of the man in the fur coat. I remembered listening to the security guards who sat in the medical tent in Oceti, bored and talking about going to the front lines to “fuck with DAPL.” I’d heard comments from others during my time there, suggesting that they were craving an action, more for the excitement than for any particular goal, it seemed…I’m more in favor of unified, goal-oriented action, I decided. Without any particular objective or end point, it was easy to see how a situation could easily turn violent. If protestors/protectors just show up to the front lines and engage in a standoff with the opposing forces, it’s fairly likely that at some point, someone will do something stupid or careless and provoke a strike. That kind of thing, I told Jacque, put people in unnecessary danger. She acknowledged my words in a way that wasn’t necessarily agreement or disagreement, just an understanding of my perspective. And even as I spoke, I felt there was probably a hundred ways to refute what I’d just said. The philosophy behind these kinds of movements was, and still is, pretty new to me. I was just processing what I’d seen.

We found my car and climbed inside. It seemed kind of bizarre, to be living in this camp, in the snow and ice and wood smoke, and yet have this luxury car to get in and turn on and blast the heat. Like a relic from another world.

I offered to drive Jacque to the bridge, where we suspected we might find more protectors gathered. But when we got there, it was virtually deserted, except for one or two trucks parked there. So we rode back to Rosebud medical to update them with the news from Turtle Island.

Snowflake and Ann had not been idle while we were gone. They had been warming hot water bottles to treat hypothermia and defrosting bottles of milk of magnesia by the fire in case people were sprayed with mace. The cot nearest to the door was layered with warm blankets, and two chairs were set next to a table covered with an assortment of bandages. I was thankful that none of these things were needed after all. It was a good drill.

The radios were working again, and we heard that the crowd at Turtle Island was dissipating. There was eventually a brief gathering at the bridge, but that too died down pretty quickly. I ate some dinner and waited around until I was fairly certain that there would be no major action that night. I was starting to feel feverish again, and the headache I’d conjured while running through the snow wouldn’t go away. I didn’t want to skip out on the other medics if I was needed, but I was praying that things would remain peaceful. And they did.