Raw Milk

Frito and Agnes

Okay. I've been thinking a lot lately about raw milk - not to mention other farm to consumer issues. After laughing at the simply awful (albeit very funny) song Legalize It - the anthem for raw milk activists - it dawned on me that the number of people that I know and have heard of that regularly jump on the band wagon to legalize marijuana is astonishing. Never, though, have I heard of a group getting together, discussing, or being absolutely appalled about the erosion of their right to choose whether or not their milk is cooked before they buy it.

I just felt that today, right now, this minute - I NEED TO BE SURE THAT YOU KNOW THAT I COULD BE ARRESTED - for selling you milk. That's right - following my bliss - milking goats - could land me in jail if I try to make a living from it.

I'm not talking commercial goat milking. I'm not talking about setting up a big business. I'm saying that if I walk out back and milk Agnes, and pour that milk in a jug, and exchange that milk for money, even with one of my friends, I COULD END UP IN JAIL.

YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO CHOOSE.

Your rights are being eroded. Slowly they are attacking co-ops and small farms. Large scale agri-business is working hard in our government to make it impossible for you to have a personal relationship with your food. There are alot of issues on the table right now - and I feel a deep responsibility to reach out and be sure that you are at least AWARE.

I'm not asking you to drink raw milk. I'm not asking you to buy my milk. I'm not asking you to believe that there is any difference in health benefits between raw and pasteurized milk (although I believe there is). I am only asking that you look at the fact that the decision has already been made for you.

And I'm hoping that you care. And share. Because it's important. It's important NOW. This is only going to get worse folks.

"US Summary: Sales of raw milk are legal in 28 out of 50 US states, which is better than half. If you include the states which permit the sale of raw milk for animal consumption (implying that human consumption is feasible) then the total is 33 out of 50 states, which is two-thirds. In some of the remaining states (such as Colorado, Virginia and Wisconsin) raw milk is available through cow share programs. Our goal: Raw milk available to consumers in all 50 states and throughout the world!"

(from www. rawmilk.com)

Spring is Here

I love spring. All the newness is refreshing.

We have baby goats on the ground.

New baby goats means we'll have goats milk now.

And goats milk means homemade goat cheese.

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I've started working with Charlie.

(photo by Brandie Bond)

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And now I'm learning how to make chainmail jewelry, too.


This is very exciting.

The High Price of Normal

Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it.
- Ellen Goodman

This quote so accurately describes my feelings about my life right now. Granted - I think I have taken care of some of it.

The clothes that I wear to work either come as gifts from friends, hand-me-downs, holiday gift cards, or the thrift store. People are sincerely amazed at the items I can find in the second hand stores.

Driving through traffic is something that I do every day now. This is a relatively new development, but a necessary one to deal with the last item. My commute is fifty miles one way and it takes me about an hour. That is two hours of my day that could really be spent doing something more productive. I have tried to put the time to good use and frequently take care of pleasantries - calls to friends and family that would otherwise not be made given the high frequency of chaos on either end of the commute. The gas money, though - ugh. Even if prices were to recede to a meager $3 per gallon - commuting alone at 25 mpg I would spend $60 per week on gas. This does not include trips to the grocery store or to pick up the kids or go to games at the highschool. And gas is not $3 per gallon. And my only operational vehicle at the moment gets 15 mpg. Which is why I am currently relying on the benevolence of my best friend and driving her car to and from the city every day.

I own two vehicles - A 1995 Jeep Wrangler with an I6 (15 mpg) and 1995 Eagle Talon TSI Turbo (28 mpg). They are both paid for. Sort of. My parents loaned me the money for the Jeep last year. When I moved to the ranch this summer I bought the Talon with a loan from my company profit sharing account ($60/paycheck to pay it back). Knowing the issues with the timing belt on a vehicle with an interference head (if the belt breaks it wrecks your valves = new engine) I immediately took the vehicle after paying $3500 for it and spent another $1200 having the timing belt replaced ($850) and some other work to get it into good shape. I knew this was imperative considering the 100+ miles per day I would be putting it through.

The shop that did the work also replaced the crank shaft seal and some other things as it was leaking some oil. When I drove it away it was running rough - which it wasn't when I took it in. So I took it back. They said that the idle error control motor was bad and needed to be replaced. I asked if it would hurt to put this off - they said no.

Soon after the car wouldn't remain running and I started driving the Jeep with considerable difference in fuel mileage. When I had the money for the part my roommate put it in. 24 hours later the car stopped in a major way. On examination sll of the belts were turning - except of course for the timing belt. Returning it to the shop has so far been fruitless. They say that the crank shaft was bent and it wrecked the timing belt and blew the engine. AND that even though they worked on both the crank shaft and the timing belt this couldn't POSSIBLY be a product of their work. *heavy sigh*

I have been trying to contact the owner of the shop since last week. He has not called me back. So the cars - I do own them outright. I have the titles. I don't have to pay for full coverage insurance - for all the good it's doing me.

The house - unfortunately I do still own it. And it is sitting vacant all the the time. My last roommate moved out at the beginning of September. I still have a few things that I have to move out of there. The lender has it on the list for foreclosure. So - you have to ask yourself at these times...

Was it ever worth it?

To work this hard. To have the house. To have the cars. To try and make it. To kiss ass and bend over and sell out on a daily basis to... do what? Keep the economy going?

I have a lot of anger about all of this. I've decided that I really need to take a serious look at my life - in spreadsheet format - and calculate the overhead required to live this way. How much money am I actually making? I don't know. I really don't. And that's disturbing. Sure - I know what my paycheck says. I know what my annual gross income is. But what I don't know for sure is the price of doing business. What is the cost to me and mine?

I'll focus on figuring that out this week. I think it may give me some answers. It might not be pretty, but I'll bet it will be real.

Normal is not something I ever wanted to be. It is certainly not anything that I want to pay for.

Blossoming

There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud
was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
- Anais Nin

I've been struggling to begin posting again. As it turns out finding the door is the easy part. Walking through the darned thing is painfully difficult.

Summing up 2008 - well that could be difficult as well. I have decided however to adopt a new motto in writing.

JUST DO IT.

It doesn't have to be good. It just has to get done.

So, here I am. I've walked through one hell of a door. I'm standing on the other side of it and my head is still spinning.

In June my husband and I made the decision to part ways. As it turns out no amount of therapy will ever change the fundamental essence of a human being. Trying to make someone into the person you want to be with is a worthless endeavor. I don't regret what I learned in the eleven year relationship, but I am saddened at the amount of misery and hurt that we were able to visit upon each other in that time.

The biggest binding factor in staying for so long was my fear of losing my step-kids. It turns out that when I decided to take the leap everything fell into place. I keep wondering what I did right to have things turn out in my favor against such odds and in such an unconventional situation. I approached my step-kids, my husband, and the biological mother with the same proposition - let me keep the kids.

I had made arrangements to move the three of us to my best friend's ranch. Over the last year the two families already living on the ranch have become the family that I've always wanted. I have found the peace and love in their presence that I had nearly ceased believing existed. The kids have spent many weekends with me there - and they had found the same comfort and sense of belonging that I had. So with the two of them in agreement, and the blessing of their parents, the three of us have made our move 40 miles north of the area we have called home for the last decade.

Please, don't think for a moment that I am giving up the reigning title as "wicked stepmother". They still laugh when I say it, but I haven't made things any easier on them. Without the constant household struggles that we have all endured I am able to focus alot of attention on them, their homework, grades, chores, and behavior that I didn't previously have the energy to devote to those areas. And they have four other adult figures that really don't give them much room to shirk the higher level of expectations. And yet still - they endeavor - and maintain that this is where they want to be.

They both just started their freshman year in high school. I am not a fool - and I understand that they may decide in the near future that this is too hard. They could very well decide to take the easy road - and as I have no legal claim to them there is little I could do to stop them. I'm not letting that scare me though. I'm not going to back off and make it easy to keep them from wanting to leave. They are 14 and 15 years old - and their decisions now are their own in a much broader sense than most of their peers.

They aren't angels either. The lengths that I have already had to go to in the first two months of their HS careers trying to get and keep them on task have been exhausting. I just have to maintain my faith that in the end this will for the best. Any success that they achieve now will help forge the path to a happier future for them. And if I were to do any less to help them I would have regrets that I'm not willing to carry through the rest of my life.

So now I find myself a different woman than I was in the spring of 2008. Autumn frost is settling over the landscape and I am having to take an accounting of my harvest through the past season. I believe that I have come out ahead - possibly for the first time in my life. As I look down the road towards winter I believe that I have laid in the emotional provisions that I need to make it to the next season, the next planting, the next door.

I owe many updates to the information that I've posted previously - and I will get to them soon. For now this song is running through my head:

A bear climbed over the mountain
A bear climbed over the mountain
A bear climbed over the mountain
To see what he could see.

He saw another mountain
He saw another mountain
He saw another mountain
And what do you think he did?

He climbed another mountain
He climbed another mountain
He climbed another mountain
And what do you think he saw?

He saw another mountain
He saw another mountain
He saw another mountain

And what do you think he did?

I don't think I'll ever stop finding doors. At least I hope not.

"Give me liberty, or give me death."

Liberty.

This word has been on my mind for several weeks now. Following my introduction to Mr. Thoreau I realized that while this word had the power to evoke strong emotions in me I didn't have the ability to convey this concept to anyone. I had gone on to re-read the Declaration of Independence and at that point took it to heart that it was not only within my abilities but felt a deep responsibility to understand the concepts that drove the founders of our nation to their greatest cause - liberty.

"My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty."
~ Samuel Francis Smith

I like to imagine that at some point in our history this might have been true. Perhaps in the beginning when those who had been driven to take arms and put their lives on the line in pursuit of this ideal were still alive this concept may have lived in the hearts of those that governed. It seems that the depth of understanding has all but dissipated in the hearts of the governed now. I wonder who of all the people I meet each day can define the term liberty - even for themselves. I wonder which of them would be willing to put themselves on the line to defend it in truth.

I know that even in the beginning there were few who actually took up arms for the cause. Most people did what people do. They put their heads down and waited to align themselves with the victor. I walk among them daily knowing that at the sound of our anthem they will place their hands upon their hearts, they will say that they are proud to be Americans, they will wave their flags and sing along to the songbook of our heartland. They will not however open their eyes to the slow deterioration of their rights in any way that might halt the erosion.

I have to ask myself - how am I any different? I have these thoughts in my head. I don't ascribe these thoughts to those who walk seemingly blind through their days, but at the end of the day I know in my heart having these thoughts make me more guilty than any who do not.

"To know what is right and not to do it is the worst cowardice."
~ Confucious

Patrick Henry's speech from which the famous quote, "Give me liberty, or give me death," is credited with inspiring even those to whom we associate the love of liberty - the likes of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson were in attendance as he spoke those words aloud publicly. I wonder what all of them would say were they to see the form that our government has now taken. I wonder what we have now by comparison, and what level of dissatisfaction is necessary before death is preferred to a lack of liberty. I wonder at the strength of this ideal for those who did not have it - to drive them to such lengths to attain it. I wonder at those who would chip away at the heart of what made this nation great, and how we as a people continue to turn a blind eye. I wonder at my place in this world, and what I can do to relieve this feeling that I am not living up to my responsibility to defend at the very least my own personal liberty.

I will be expanding on these thoughts more in future posts. This subject deserves some sincere meditation. Thinking about the ideal of liberty, it's cost and preservation have driven me to distraction lately. I know that I need to explore and expand my own depth of understanding, and a single post will not do this.

For now I'll leave with this quote that I have been pondering:

"I would rather be exposed to the inconveniences attending too much liberty than to those attending too small a degree of it."
~ Thomas Jefferson

A Step Forward

So...

After cycling wildly for some time now between three options for the house, refinancing, selling, and bankruptcy, I've finally made a definitive step forward. Thanks to Brandie.

Refinancing had the potential of rolling all of the bills into the mortgage. If we could take out the equity into the house we could get out from under our debt. Then we were considering whether to attempt a sale after that or rent the property. The problem with renting the property is that we probably couldn't do it for the amount of the mortgage payment which would have left us in the hole every month. With the country on the brink of recession we were of course faced with a potential future foreclosure, ending up upside down on the value, and eventually the possibilty of having to file for bankruptcy anyway. I did, however, put a foot forward in that direction several weeks ago. I called up, Joey, who had managed our first mortgage on the house when we purchased it. Unfortunately he came back a few days ago telling me that he believed they "might" be able to get an interest rate more than a full point lower than what we have at the moment, "if" they could squeak our credit past the underwriter, but there was no chance of taking out the equity in our property to pay off the bills.

Selling right now seems an overwhelming prospect. The house market looks grim. I'm not seeing the rampant "For Sale" signs that were as abundant as dandelions a year ago. I feel now like all those people had there finger on a pulse I was unaware of. The upside is that the comparative home sales in our area run about 50K more than what we owe on the house. At that rate, if we were ABLE to sell it, we would have enough money to pay off the bills and the possibility of a little left over.

Bankruptcy has been on my mind a lot lately. For all it's pitfalls it sounds like a loop-hole in the machine. I can only imagine that it exists because of the rate of recidivism. People get out from under their bills and immediately start accruing them anew. I know that at this point in my life that wouldn't be the case. I'm done with plastic. I'm done with unsecured loans. I'm really done with the secured ones as well - aside from property. As far as the damage to my credit? Well - I figure that really only matters if I'm concerned about my place and status inside the machine. I have friends who have been offering assistance in this area, and have made it clear that you don't need a lawyer to get it done. This sounded hopeful - kind of like an open door to walk through. The easy way out.

I've never been much for the easy way out. It may be a short-coming, but I am who I am. Bankruptcy? Backburner. Last option when all others are exhausted.

With the new information on the refinance I know that it really isn't an option. I just have to maintain involvement in the process because my mortgage guy is running interference with my creditors at the moment.

Yesterday Brandie and I had a long, honest, and explicit conversation relating to our dreams for an intentional community, on getting living arrangements secured, and on getting the farm to a productive state. We've both been dreaming wistfully for some time now, and we both know that this will work if we can just find a way to pool our resources. We talked about the fears that were holding us back. We talked about the dreams that were pushing us forward. We talked possibilities. We talked practical matters.

Suddenly this became a solid and palpable thing. With the chasm in front of us we held hands and each stretched our faith a little bit. We haven't made the leap yet. We haven't thrown ourselves into the grand canyon of uncertainty. But our feet are out there hovering now.

"You've got to sell the house," she said.
"I know," I replied. "Give me the contact information for your realtor friend and I'll start now."

A gust of wind blew through my mind and light spilled through the dislodged cobwebs from the direction of the door. I emailed the realtor and she responded with a request for the property address. A step in the right direction.

We talked about living arrangements on the farm. The potential for moving their motor home back onto the property as a temporary fix for my family. We talked about my vehicle - my beloved Jeep - and she pointed out the fact that the gas for commuting was going to kill me. I told her I've been stalking Geo Metros on craigslist for some time now. Once we are out from under the mortgage that won't be an obstacle.

All these things had been hanging in the air for months - the trust and friendship between us building to a point where we could say them out loud. I can quite suddenly feel her strong hands helping me dislodge this heavy weight on my shoulders. I've been carrying it for so long I had forgotten how tall I can feel without it.

As if the universe were in complete agreement with these steps the day wore on with new developments. I received an email from work that they are selling several of the courier vehicles at work in a couple of weeks. Toyota Corollas. They have more than 200K miles on them, but they have impeccable maintenance records, and they are selling them for around $500. I put my name in for one. If they have too much interest there will be a sealed bid. We'll see what happens.

Then last night the frame for a yurt was delivered to my house. A friend that owed us money from several years ago was going to sell it in order to pay us back. We told her that instead we would take it in exchange for the debt, which we had actually written off ages ago. This was at least six months ago.

In the midst of considering the options for our future domicile - the frame for a nomadic home shows up in my driveway. Another affirmation that we are stepping in the right direction. The feeling for me that the chasm only appears deep and dark, and that all of the resources that we will need are waiting at the bottom if we will but let ourselves fall into the waiting arms of our future.

Still, I have to come up with the expendable income to purchase the vehicle, and assemble the yurt and come up with a skin and a floor for it. I have to stay on top of the realtor business, and get my house together to sell. And then comes the part about putting our life back in boxes - something we didn't think we were ever going to do again when we bought this place.

But I can feel the forward movement. I can feel the breeze from the door and the light is getting brighter.

There is so much relief on the horizon.

Ideas

Last night I cam home from a weekend of working out at the ranch with a half gallon of fresh goats milk, a carton of 18 eggs, and a lot of ideas.

A few weeks ago I ran across a web site that has really stuck with me. Unfortunately I didn't save the link and now it has disappeared into the vast landscape of the internet. It was talking about what you need to do and know before you decide to start a farm. It talked about practical matters of knowing what your land, mineral, and water rights are before you buy a property, and it talked about the biggest pitfall being people buying a farm for it's idealism without knowing first what they are going to produce.

I've been wracking my brain ever since. There's been a lot of talk among the group of running a dairy. We've considered livestock for meat. We've looked into harvesting fiber, but the take on that everywhere I've read is that it's a tough sell. You have to produce a huge quantity before you can make any kind of a meager living on it.

Bryan grew up a wheat farmer, and Brandie grew up a cattle rancher - so there is a lot of practical experience in the group as far as dealing with machinery, animal husbandry, planting, growing, harvesting... You name it and these two seem to pull information out of their brains in a deluge. I'm always so delighted when Bryan starts spouting off information like an old-time almanac. Early last fall I commented that the locusts were singing in the city. Without missing a beat or taking a breath he replied that the first frost would be in about 6 weeks. I didn't have the wherewithal to mark it on the calendar, but I'm sure he was right.

This weekend my body started waking up to the fact that it is spring. We rose early to milk the two goats that have freshened, fed the little guy, ran errands in town, and cleaned the corral hauling tons of horse manure to the compost piled in the garden. The sun was shining and with temperatures in the 60's I bared my shoulders in appreciation and was paid with a wicked sunburn. This is a ritual I'm familiar with. I just don't usually get my first sun of the season in March. We finished up the day building a dresser/desk for their 8 year old daughter out of discarded water bed parts. We filled our bellies at dinner with no guilt for the calories. We'd burned our fair share in the work of the day, and after making a half gallon of milk replacer I moved on to the late evening feeding of the little guy before sleep came fast and hard.

The weather turned chilly on Sunday. I had help with the early morning feeding of the little guy and we headed out to milk goats again. The hard sleep was still heavy on our heads and Maggie eventually grew tired of my in-experienced tugging. Bryan took over and while trying to get the last dribbles from her she decided she'd had enough and stuck her foot in the bucket.

After some expletives we released the babies to their mother's milk and headed inside where I was given my first lesson in pasteurization. They heated the milk to 161 degrees in order to make the milk safe for consumption. They only do this when they get a foot in the bucket. The rest of the time we just filter it and refrigerate.

With a spring chill unwilling to lift and the urge in our bodies to move, the spring cleaning bug bit into us and we scrubbed the kitchen down. In the middle of this, and I'm sure spurred on by the foot-in-bucket incident, Bryan took a break from cleaning to go fix the milking stand.

While many missions were accomplished - we unfortunately did not get around to starting the dig for the cistern. Perhaps next weekend the weather will hold long enough to get through more of the work at hand. Still with my skin stinging from the sun, my finger cut, and a splinter embedded deep in my hand - my body is glad of the warmth and the movement and the productivity.

After getting home last night, though, I discovered quickly that I miss the crying of the little guy, the warmth of his body in my arms, and the sound of his quick breathing in my ear. I miss the way he would find me in the kitchen and try to nurse on the leg of my blue jeans telling me he was ready for another bottle, and his antics as he leaps and pronks about slowly but proudly conquering more of the living room furniture.

On returning home last night the room-mate pulled out a movie he had found and thought I would enjoy, "The Real Dirt on Farmer John". I thought it was going to be a theatrical account from the write-up, but it turned out to be a documentary of one man with unusual ideas trying to save his family farm, succeeding, failing, and succeeding again. Repeat as needed I suppose to get the full picture. I laughed and cried. I was delighted with his efforts, and then horrified at the obstacles pitted against him. I highly recommend watching it if you've got any bit of freak inside you that seems all too entwined with the love of dirt between your fingers.